Bald Man and the Ice Princess
by Vashti
Summary: Pete's cousin comes to visit and ends up staying. chapter 23 of unknown
1. Eight Ball, meet Rainbow Brite

Author's Note: If you're re-reading this series, please please _please_, re-read chapters 3 and 5. A lot of the backstory has been changed. And note that chapters 8 and 9 have been meshed togeher.

If this is your first read, be warned this is my first SV fic and it probably shows. I've written/am in the process of writing two others, but all of this was done before that. That said, enjoy!

Bald Man and the Ice Princess

§§§

Eight-Ball, meet Rainbow Brite

§§§

Wednesday, Oct. 2

Lex Luthor's saunter was deliberate as he passed through the milieu of teenage bodies swarming from Smallville High. He had long ago learned the subtle trick of making one seem older than one is . . .long before he ever had honest need of it. But it served his purpose now. He was throwing off far too much casual sensuality and devil-may-care boredom for most of the student body to handle. They parted around him like fish around a rock. But oh how they stared.

Object of desire so close he turned down Sex and upped Friendly. Clark Kent had saved his life, after all. They were friends. It wasn't nice to distance your friends with below-the-belt age difference snubs. Especially when you don't have many, he reminded himself. He saved that for people Clark didn't like. Or who didn't like Clark. The list was fairly short. Lex threw in Annoying and Fairly Worthless Teenagers and the list filled out nicely.

It seemed Ms. Sullivan and Mr.. Ross were with him. And someone else. That was okay by Lex. Chloe was as interested in the meteor rocks as he was, exceptionally smart, witty, and pretty to boot. Pete . . .Pete was tolerable when around the right company: not alone with Lex. As for Someone Else -- unless he had gotten a rainbow dye job, grown five inches or so and gotten a spectacular tan, it seemed Lex could take himself off the New Guy list in town. There was a whole new family for the residents of Smallville to gawk at. A very bright family.

Clark spotted Lex and, disengaging himself from his friends, walked over. "Lex!"

"Clark, hey!" Lex could feel his answering smile warm him despite the nippy fall air.

"What're you doing at school?"

"I was driving by and thought I'd offer you guys -- and girls -- a lift. Smallville High have a new student body?"

Clark gave him that boyish smile. "Not exactly. She's Pete's cousin actually. C'mon, you should meet her. She's from Gotham."

Lex arched an eyebrow in response.

"Hey Pete, Chloe. Lex offered us all a ride home. Your cousin too, Pete."

Pete started to protest but was stopped by his cousin's look of surprise. She turned slowly to face Lex and Clark. "Lex? Lex Luthor? In Smallville?"

Lex's eyes narrowed. "The Ice Princess?"

Pete muscled his way between them. "Isis, you know him?"

"Yeah," Isis answered, "from when I was in Metropolis for a few years. Before I left Metro U."

"Why'd he call you The Ice Princess?" Chloe asked, feeling the trail of at least an interesting story turning up.

Isis snorted. "Back when I was all into the Metropolis club scene I used to wear Grandmother's and Great-grandmother's diamonds. Some of my own fake stuff too. Used to be dripping with it. I got the nickname Ice or The Ice Princess when I was feeling . . .a little less the courteous. Well, that's what people called me to my face at least."

"I see you've toned down on the jewels," Lex commented wryly.

"I'm not at war with my father anymore. Don't have anything to prove. To him at least. What about you LL? You still fighting with old LL senior?"

"You know what they say, the good fight never ends."

Isis' chuckle was the least bit disbelieving. "It wasn't always good, but it was definitely fun to watch. Are you still fun to watch, Lex?" And suddenly October was unseasonably warm. Lex knew that if he looked over at Clark the boy would be flushed. He wondered if Pete felt it too or if, because she was his cousin, he was immune. A quick glance at Chloe let him know she was out of the loop.

And Isis hadn't really done anything. A certain shifting of her hips, a slight turn of her head and the very air wanted to go up in flames. Lex hadn't known Isis very well, but he did know that "Ice" was quite the misnomer.

"Be that as it may--" Her smile was sunny and light; as friendly and playful as her multi-colored braids. "--you can take Clark and Clo here home, but Pete is going with me. Isn't that right, Pete?"

There was true affection in the cousins' eyes as they shared a playful smile. Pete wrapped his arm around Isis' back. "Yup. See you guys tomorrow." They walked off.

Chloe turned to Clark. "Did she just call me 'Clo'?"

"Uh huh."

"Hmm. I think I like it."


	2. There's a new car in town

There's a new car in town  
(or This town ain't big enough for both our cars) 

§§§

Thursday, Oct. 3

"Whoa. What is that?" someone exclaimed loud enough for a hush to fall over every student in the parking-lot within earshot. Those who hadn't suddenly found themselves talking to their friends' backs, talking to the air, or suddenly alone. An excited buzz of conversation soon followed as teen eyes raked over the deep red convertible that had so recently stopped just in front of their school. Kids who weren't usually interested in cars found themselves drawn to it, if only because everyone else was.

Whitney jabbed Clark who had turned to stare with the rest of the student body that Friday morning. "Hey Clark, Luthor get another car?"

"How would I know?" he answered, awed by the beautiful convertible.

"Who else in Smallville could afford a 2003 Mercedes-Benz CLK430 Cabriolet?"

"Ooh, a boy who knows his cars," Isis called over the black hood. "I like it." Pete stepped out of the car, bookbag on one shoulder. "Pick you up later or you gonna ride with Clark and Clo?"

"I think I'll ride," he answered. "Thanks Isis!"

"No prob, Petey."

"Isis!"

Her laughter as she disappeared into the car was his only response. Pete shook his head. "Hey Clark, where's Chloe?"

"Inside I guess. I think I saw her at least."

"Oh, okay. Isis thinks the idea of a Wall of Weird is cool."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She wants to see it up close so she can figure out if she likes the actuality as much as the idea." Clark and Pete made faces at each other that said, "Girls," and shook their heads. "Anyway, we should go inside. Isis wants me to make an appointment." Pete made air-quotes around "appointment."

"Hey Whitney," Clark said, "you really should close your mouth before a fly gets in."

§§§

"More coffee?"

Lex looked up from his laptop into Nell's smiling face. "Sure," he said with a smile of his own. It wasn't very genuine or heartfelt. It didn't reach his eyes, in the poetic sense. But it wasn't meant to. It was genuine enough to be pleasant without being either too difficult to dredge up, or too personal giving the receiver the wrong idea.

"Lex, did you get a new car?"

His gaze bounced from the rich black-brown liquid pouring into his oversized mug to Nell's face, then followed her eyes out _Talon_'s large windows. "I'm more of black, navy and silver kind of guy myself. I don't usually venture into the . . .warmer shades of car." But he knew who in this town would.

"Really? Now who else in Smallville would own a luxury car like that?" With anyone else the question might have led to idle gossip, Nell sliding into the booth and, eventually, casual conversation. Lex slid his pale eyes away from the car and up Nell's face, who wasn't quite looking at him. But she felt the weight of his gaze. Her eyes flickered down to meet his. They locked for a brief moment before Lex turned back to his computer and Nell returned to the counter, with the indistinct feeling that she had been dismissed.

It wasn't ten minutes later when his work was interrupted again: "LL, what a surprise."

Isis wore a vest that, although not an exact match, was in the same family of red as her car, over a chocolate brown, long-sleeved t-shirt tucked into equally chocolate jeans. Shrugging off the vest revealed fine needlework done along the boat-neck collar, again in the same family of red as the car and vest. Lex knew that if glanced at her feet she would be tastefully shod in something either chocolate or red. In that same stupid family of red. If Isis had ever had a "thrown together" moment in her life, Lex had never seen it.

"You look good, Ice," he said as she sat opposite him.

"So do you. Working or playing, Lex?"

"Working."

She sighed dramatically and shook her head, setting the rainbow of braids dancing across her face. They were held up in two bunches on either side of her head. "What happened to that party-boy I used to know in Metropolis?"

"You know with your hair like that, Ice, you look like a cockerspaniel."

"I know. Strange isn't it," she said, unwilling to be offended. Especially when she had said the same to herself in the mirror that very morning. "But come on, you don't like a good party anymore?"

"Of course I like a good party. If you hadn't noticed, Smallville isn't exactly the place for parties, however."

Her light snort said that he was obviously lying to himself. "And exactly how far is downtown Metropolis from here? Not far. Not in that car of yours. Not the way you drive." She reached one hand across the table, very near his coffee. "Not the way you party," she purred.

"I don't party like that anymore."

Isis' pout was sensuality itself. Something tightened in him in response. "Oh well," she said, picking up his coffee, "neither do I." She took a sip and made a face. Suddenly it was hard to believe she was old enough to drive, let alone have the kind of sexuality she had just turned off. "Black? What kind of mole-monster are you?"

"Then get your own," Lex growled.

"I will." Moments later she was drinking a creamy, sugary French vanilla blend and reveling in the warmth. "So what're you working on LL?"

"Stop calling me that." He quickly glanced up from his laptop. "I'm not that person anymore."

"You keep calling me Ice."

"It's an acceptable shortening of 'Isis'. And you don't seem to have changed much at all," he grumped to his laptop.

She spun it from his still typing fingers. "Oh, so we have two very brief encounters and you've got me completely mapped out. Personally I think even from that you should have noticed the difference. No diamonds, well except Grandmother's ring, no haughtiness -- I haven't changed enough for you _LL_?"

"You forget that I knew you better than most people. I got to see underneath all that ice, and what I'm seeing now isn't much different." Isis stroked the lines of Lex's laptop lovingly. Lex felt ghost fingers touching him much the same way and silently cursed her for the memories.

"Maybe my personality hasn't changed," Isis said, startling him, "but maybe the intent behind it has." Her attention was suddenly drawn from Lex's angry eyes to the business proposal on the screen. Skimming the document, she lifted the coffee mug to her lips.

Lex followed her gaze. "What are you doing Ice?" He watched her put down the mug and start typing in earnest. "What the hell are you doing to my work Isis?" Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Nothing much," she said, executing the save command. With a deft motion, she turned and pushed the laptop back at Lex. "See you around, LL."

He didn't bother to scowl at her retreating back, demand that she pay for her coffee, or watch her drive off. Oh no, Lex Luthor was far too busy trying to determine what damage the vindictive, flighty and occasionally silly Ice Princess might have done to his very tediously eked out business proposal.

When Nell came back around for another round of fill-ups she found Lex sitting back in his plush seat, staring at his laptop. "Is everything all right?"

"Hmm? Yes. Better than all right actually."

"That girl who sat down with you, she drove off in that Mercedes. You know her?"

"Yeah," he said, still staring at the computer. He looked up at Nell. "Yeah, I do."

"She looks kind of reckless."

Lex snorted. "Just a little. But she's got business sense. More than enough," he murmured to himself. He seemed to remember Nell standing over him. "More coffee?"

"Yes, Lex."


	3. OBGee Why Not

OB-Gee Why Not

§§§

Friday, Oct. 4

"So this is the Wall of Weird." Isis looked it up and down, taking a moment to skim the interesting headlines. "I think I like it as much as I thought I might. Who's that?"

Chloe followed Isis' black-cherry nail. "Ah. That's Lana Lang."

"She made the cover of _Time_."

"Yup, the town was top story everywhere. That's about as famous as Smallville has ever, and will ever, get."

"The meteors?" Isis asked, turning to Chloe who was still studying her handiwork.

"Meteors."

"So how old's Ms. Lang now?"

"Pete hasn't told you about her?"

"Should he have?"

Chloe rolled her eyes and led Isis out the back room to her desk. "Pete's told you about Clark, right?"

"Yeah. I know Clark from when I used to spend my summers here."

"And he hasn't updated you on Clark's obsession with Lana Lang?" Chloe's tone said that it just wasn't possible. "That boy's been in love with her since, like, the first grade. Or something like that. I didn't actually move to Smallville until about seven or eight years ago, but for as long as I've known Clark, he's loved Lana."

"And you've loved him," Isis surmised.

"No!"

"Yes!"

They stared at each other for a moment, making similar faces. "Okay, maybe a little bit," Chloe finally admitted. "But how do you compete with that?" she gestured vaguely to Lana's picture on the Wall of Weird.

Isis' look screamed, Ew, not only is that gross, but it's physically impossible. "Does she still dress like a fairy princess?"

"No."

"Does she still harp about the meteor shower?"

"Not lately."

"She still look that sweet and innocent?"

Chloe let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes. Well except when extinct flowers sneeze on her."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"O-kay. Then tell me, is Lana Lang single?"

"No way. She's dating this guy named Whitney."

"Blondish? About yea high? Football player who knows lots about cars? Left Clark to freeze out in a cornfield last fall?"

"You know him?"

"Not really. He was gaping at my Cabriolet yesterday. And Pete talked about him last night. Sounds like a jerk to me. But you're saying Pretty Little Princess is dating him?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, "She is the head cheerleader."

"I knew I forgot to ask something," Isis said with a snap of her fingers. "Is she really a natural blond, no offense by the way."

"No and none taken. See," Chloe threw her hands up, "it is hopeless! Not only is Clark in love with the Princess, but the Princess is perfect to boot. Sob story? Check. Gorgeous? Check. Smart? Check. Unattainable? Check. Trust me, the list goes on and on."

Isis narrowed her eyes. "You sound like you've been through it."

"With Clark. Pete's my witness. We were all here together when he did it. Eventually I had to leave or I was going to throw up."

Isis bit her lower lip. "Hmm. This may be harder than I thought. Is she the least bit interested in Clark?"

"I don't know," Chloe said with a scowl. She had started to pace, with Isis watching her wear a hole in the linoleum. "Sometimes it seems like she's gonna drop Whitney and move on to Clark-er pastures. Other times it looks like she's just given him either the 'Let's Just Be Friends' or 'I Consider You One of the Girls' speech. Which I've gotten."

"From Clark?" Chloe nodded. "Hmm, never fun. I've gotten more than enough of those in my day," Isis mused. She watched Chloe pace a bit longer before voicing the thought: "So you ever really talked to this Lana? I mean, how well do you know her? How do you know she isn't some alien who crashed to Earth with the meteors and has somehow convinced the town that she's lived here all along?"

Chloe stopped pacing and stared at Isis. "I don't think so," she said slowly. "But you're right," she admitted, "I don't know her very well. Not personally at least."

"So how 'bout the three of us go out driving my Cabriolet tomorrow afternoon and have ourselves some gir--"

Beepbeep Beepbeep Beepbeep

"--girl-talk." Isis stopped her watch then fished a PDA out of one her many cargo-pockets. "I'm sorry Chloe, I have an OB-GYN appointment."

Chloe made a face. "I'm so sorry for you."

"You know, they're actually not that bad. My doctor in Gotham's really cool and she suggested someone for me to go to in Metropolis." Isis picked up her shoulder bag and vest, dove gray this time, and headed for the door. "Let's put it like this: Given the choice of which I'd rather do once a month every month or once every six months, I'd rather have a checkup every month and my period once every six."

Chloe let out a surprised bark of laughter and felt her cheeks go hot. "I cannot believe. . . Whoa. Okay. Uh, so we'll still go out tomorrow?"

"Yeah! You get in touch with Lana and then you can call me. I'm staying at Pete's."

Chloe walked Isis out the school. "It doesn't seem small at the Rosses? I mean, there are like seven or eight of you in there?"

"Yeah, but I like it. It's just me and Dad at home." Isis could see Chloe had questions. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Or tonight. Whenever. But I have _got_ to run. It's a long drive to Metropolis."

§§§

"_Jesus!_" Chloe hissed. Lana knew exactly how she felt, because she was praying to the exact same person that the three of them got out of the car pretty much how they got in: alive. What she wouldn't give to be back in church. "Say it again, sister," she mumbled.

"Oh it's not that bad," Isis chided.

"We nearly killed something back there!" Chloe said.

"We did not!" The girls' silence forced Isis to take a quick glance at the both of them. "Okay, then what was it?"

Chloe made an exasperated sound. "I don't know. We were going too fast."

With a roll of her eyes, Isis slowed the car a notch.

"So now we're only breaking the speed limit by thirty miles per hour. Thanks, Ice."

"Oh not you, too Clo."

"You get to call me Clo and I get to call you Ice."

Isis rolled her eyes, but when they met Lana's in the rearview mirror they were laughing. "You know what it is?" Lana actually had the audacity to ask what. "You guys just aren't getting the full experience of the car. It _is_ a convertible after all."

Lana's eyes widened in the rearview mirror. "It can't be more than 50 degrees outside! The way we're going it'll feel like . . .like . . ."

"It'll be really, really cold!" Chloe finished.

"What she said."

"Oh," Isis retorted, "because we aren't all wearing our winter coats. Live a little guys! Life is short."

"We don't want it to be shorter," Chloe mumbled. But by then it was too late. The heat was off and the top was slowly lifting away from their heads. She jumped when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Lana extended her hand: "Hey, at least we'll go together."

"Don't even joke like that," but Chloe held Lana's hand anyway.

"Woohoo!"

The girls' heads whipped around. Isis' hands were up and her eyes were closed. "ISIS!" they screamed.

"What? My wheels are perfectly aligned. We aren't going to swerve off the road, and if we did the cornstalks would stop us."

"At least one hand on the wheel," Chloe said through gritted teeth. "And both eyes open," Lana added.

Obligingly she put both hands down and kept her eyes open. "Look, I'll make you girls a deal," she howled over the wind, glancing from one to the other, to their white-knuckled grip on each other, "if you both start enjoying yourselves, not only will I keep my eyes on the road, but I'll drop the speedometer another twenty M-P-H."

"Promise?" Lana asked

"Yeah, but you have to have fun!"

"And how do you expect us to do that?" Chloe asked, feeling very like she was negotiating the terms of an interview.

They would later learn that the slowly growing smile -- especially that particular smile -- was potentially dangerous to anyone it was directed at. "How? You could start by letting go of the death-grip you've got on each other."

"What if we don't want to?"

"You'll probably end up pulling Lana through the windshield." The girls quickly let go. "Okay," Isis couldn't, and didn't try to, keep the wild triumph from her voice, "now lean back and slowly raise your hands above your heads. When you've done that and you're all comfortable-like, I want you to let out a scream."

"Ah," Chloe cried timidly. Lana was no better.

"Obviously you're not comfortable yet. Lemme show you how it's done--"

"NO!" the girls cried.

"Well then let'em rip, Chlana," she said, purposely blending their names. "I can't hear you," she singsonged.

"Aaaaaah!" Lana yelled.

"Yeeeeeeaaaaah!" Chloe called after her.

"That's it! Do it again!"

"Wooohooohooo!"

"Hellooooooo Smallville!"

"HEY LANA!"

"YEAH ISIS!"

"YOU HAVING FUN?"

"I THINK SO!"

"WHAT ABOUT CHLOE? IS SHE HAVING FUN?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"WHY DON'T YOU ASK HER?"

"HEY CHLOE!"

"YEAH LANA?"

"ISIS WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU'RE HAVING FUN!"

"I AM HAVING _FUN_!"

"THEN LET ALL SMALLVILLE KNOW," Isis cried.

Lana and Chloe yelled and called out to the Kansas countryside until their cheeks were red and they were nearly hoarse.

"That was great," Chloe said the moment the car stopped. Lana agreed wholeheartedly.

"You're heart's racing isn't it?" Isis asked. They nodded, ear-to-ear grins plastered on their faces. "Wanna do it again?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Absolutely!"

With a spring in their steps and exhilaration making their blood sing, they made their way into the restaurant. Neither Chloe nor Lana noticed the attention they were drawing. Isis, who got stared at in one of the most jaded cities after New York, ignored it easily but made a mental note to point out some likely flirt-material to Chloe. The girl seriously needed to up the self-confidence.

"So Lana," she started, "I've been seriously negligent. How're you? It's been years. Seeing anyone?"

"Years?" Chloe asked incredulously, her eyebrows heading for her hairline, but not because of the time mentioned.

"Yeah, I didn't even recognize Lana at first. I used to spend all my summers here until my uncle and Dad got into some huge fight over us having too much money and them being too stubborn and not wanting anyone's help. Course it was me and my cousins in the middle. As usual."

"So you're rich?"

"Eh, sorta. My maternal grandparents are. Stinkin' filthy rich. Gotham high society. But then Mom and Dad--- You guys don't wanna hear this. This is supposed to be a girls' night--"

"No, no," they protested. "Go on." "Yeah."

"So my grandparents have money from investments, business deals, the whole nine yards, but Mom and Dad decided they didn't want to just live off Mom's parents' work. They wanted the whole Sinatra 'I did it my way' thing. So they did." A waitress came by and took their orders. After a few misunderstandings -- Lana wanted a Cheeseburger Deluxe not The Big Freeze for a Buck -- and a round of waters, Isis continued. "At first it was great. They were strugglin' along, Dad shuttled me to Smallville as soon as I could go on a plane by myself, Mom and I would go to visit my grandparents once a month or something, and everything was roses and starlight. Then Dad's business started to take off. My aunt and uncle could never really afford to send Pete to Gotham, especially after they lost the factory, and they wouldn't let _my _ parents pay for the plane ticket. . . Which I guess is where this all really started." Isis took a sip of her water. "C'mon guys, I know you don't really want to hear this. I mean, family history? Bor-ing. Can't we talk about guys?"

"Pete's a guy," Chloe retorted.

Isis rolled her eyes. "Guys that aren't related to any of us."

"This is interesting. Besides, we have all night to talk about guys," Lana said, adding her two cents, capped with the most genuine smile Isis had ever seen.

"All right already. I know when I've been outvoted. Anywho, so Dad took it hard that his brother wouldn't let his nephew go to Gotham, and I'm pretty sure Uncle Mark was annoyed that Dad kept pushing him about it. You know how guys are: It started out with friendly jibes about money, and not minding me visiting but not wanting to send his precious son and stuff like that. Then Uncle Mark had to sell the factory to LuthorCorp and it got really ugly. I think Dad tried to send my aunt and uncle money, but you might have noticed how hardheaded the Ross men can be." Chloe and Lana shared a look then nodded. "The very next summer I stopped coming to Smallville and I haven't been back here since." Isis took a long drink of her water. "Bleh, my mouth's still dry."

Lana wrinkled her eyebrows. "I don't remember you."

Isis rolled her eyes. "Well, you know, I was a lot less interesting back then," she indicated her hair. "And I couldn't exactly drive--"

"Which reminds me," Chloe interrupted, "you haven't exactly explained the riches. This is all your father's money?"

Isis made a face. "Not exactly. See, while my father and my uncle have been fighting, Dad and my grandparents have been at each others throats too. Grams and Gramps have been trying their darndest to spoil me rotten ever since I was in diapers. You know, only grandchild and all that jazz. Dad was _so_ not having it. But then _I _ started feuding with Daddy and everything changed. Grams let me have the family diamonds and she opened an expense account for me. That was all about the time I was enrolled in Metropolis U." She seemed thoughtful for a moment. "About the time I met Lex, too. Hmm."

Chloe's face lit up. "You knew Lex Luthor in college."

"A little," Isis admitted, a secretive grin bubbling to the surface. "But enough about me already! The only things I know about you guys is from Pete, and when was the last time you could get accurate information about a woman from a guy? Hmm?"

They both agreed, never. But their food arriving stopped any conversation. Yelling through the flatlands of Kansas worked up an appetite.

"He plays football?" Isis repeated incredulously. They were about an hour into their meal, i.e. coffee and dessert, when the conversation finally got back onto its original track.

"Mmm hmm," Lana agreed around her Key Lime Pie.

"Isn't that the small town equivalent of being a frat boy?"

"Mmm hmm!" Chloe agreed fervently.

"Chloe!" Lana pushed her playfully.

"Lana!" Chloe pushed back. "Hey," she turned back to Isis, "don't forget she's also the head cheerleader."

"Why Miss Lang, I would have never guessed," Isis said with mock horror. Lana actually blushed. "Oh please, don't worry about me. It makes you happy and it's only hurting my big city sensibilities. I promise I'll get over it. Especially if you let me have a piece of your Key Lime Pie."

"Go ahead," Lana pushed the plate toward her. "And what about you, Cub Reporter Chloe?"

"What about me?"

"Clark."

It was Chloe's turn to flush to her roots. "What about Clark?"

"Just because he's blind doesn't mean I can't see you're interested."

"Yeah, but there's that little problem of a blind love for you," Chloe said a little too harshly.

"Girls," Isis interjected, "play nice."

"What about Ice."

"What about me?"

"You knew Lex from Metropolis, and he definitely remembered you from the looks of it."

"But how could you forget me, Clo?" She shook her multicolored braids for emphasis. The girls laughed. "In all honesty though, me and Lex were never an item. We hung out in the same circles but he was a part of the truly rich and I was a part of the playing-at-being rich--"

"Did it work?" Lana wanted to know.

"Oh yeah. I had a very nice expense account. But I wasn't at Metropolis U very long. A year and a half if I remember right. I ended up finishing out my degree back in Gotham. Lex was lots of fun in the dorms, though. Like this one time--"

"--at band camp," both girls supplied.

Isis stuck her tongue out at them as they laughed. "Okay, okay, so I walked right into that one. But really, if you want to remember anything really telling about Lex in college it's this. . ."

Both girls leaned forward.

" . . .he used to give us stuff that turned our piss blue."

Lana shook her head as if trying to clear the cobwebs while Chloe's eyebrows climbed into her hairline. They both looked at Isis as if she were utterly mad, as the thought, and accompanying mental picture, made it's way through their brains. "Blue?"

"Blue," Isis confirmed.

"Not orange or pink or green. Blue."

"Blue."

On the drive home Isis would argue, loudly, that she had started laughing first and that Chloe and Lana had joined in after. Lana would then staunchly disagree. It had been her original snigger that caused the all out laugh-fest that would have gotten them kicked out if they weren't already ready to leave. Chloe tried to make a case of her own but she was out-shouted by the other two.

Of course they all agreed that Chloe had laughed loudest. Much louder when Isis planted a mental picture of Clark, Pete and Lex having a blue pissing contest. Much louder. Isis had only snickered herself.


	4. Confrontations, consultations

Confrontations, consultations and insults will get you everywhere 

(or Let's see some id) 

* 

Wednesday, Oct. 9 

A hand settled on Isis' shoulder. 

She jumped, right hand automatically reaching for her left hip before she remembered she was in Smallville, and had left the pepper-spray in with her luggage. The Gotham Girl's Survival Kit was not necessary in Kansas. Especially not at the local coffeehouse, although what she wouldn't give for a good cup of Darjeeling tea. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

Isis twisted in her chair and looked up into Lex's smiling face. "Course you can L-- Lex. How go the multi-billions?" 

"Multiplying themselves exponentially, I'm sure," he said wryly. He signaled to Lana for a cup. 

"What, you don't wait on line with the little people anymore, Lex?" 

He raised an eyebrow, "Did you?" 

"That's beside the point." 

"It's the entire point." 

Isis snorted. "Always fencing the blame onto someone else. Tch, tch, L--" She visibly shook herself. "_Lex_. See, I'm striving to be a better person in your eyes," she said drolly. 

"A little more effort and I might believe you. So what _are_ you working on, Ice?" he asked, eyeing her dark gray laptop on its cooling board. 

"Curious Lex?" 

"Always." 

Lana came with a fresh pot of coffee before Isis could properly retort. "Fresh cup, Ice?" She nodded. Catching the girl's hazel eyes, Isis mouthed "Blue." A blush crept up Lana's cheeks, and her pleasant smile tried to twist itself into a grin. She set a cup and saucer before Lex and started to pour -- only to make the mistake of looking at Lex's very blue eyes. 

Lex and Isis, with her laptop, jumped back as Lana missed his cup completely. "Oh, I'm so, so . . ." She trailed off into snickers and once again made the mistake of catching someone's eye: Isis'. Both women started laughing, Lana trying to apologize between fits of giggles and promising to come back and clean up the mess. 

"What was that about?" Lex demanded. 

Isis waved him off, wiping tears from her eyes. Really, she hadn't expected it to be this funny almost twenty-four hours later, but it was. 

"Isis! Heads up!" Lana tossed Isis a damp cloth rather than going back and facing the both of them -- and the image of Lex's blue urine -- again. The temptation to call Chloe made her fingers itch. 

Isis proceeded to wipe up the mess, carefully avoiding Lex's gaze. "It's my fault really." 

"I'm sure it is." 

Her head shot up. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Just what I said." 

"I seem to remember you having a much better sense of humor, Lex. What happened, someone squeeze your _cojones_ too hard?" 

Their stare-down was interrupted by the musical ring of Lex's cell phone. He glared at the caller id, then let out a sigh of exasperation. "I have to take this," he said as if he and Isis had been having the best, most magical conversation, only to be disturbed by the most onerous phone call anyone could imagine. He slid out of the booth and stepped out The Talon. 

Of course an annoying conversation with Isis beat even a decent one with Lionel Luthor. Decent usually did not equal pleasant in the Luthor household. It only meant that neither had managed to sufficiently raise his blood-pressure for either of their doctors to worry. Much. 

"Yes, Dad." 

"I just got a chance to look at the final draft of that business proposal--" 

He waited for the other shoe to drop. 

"It's very good Lex. Much better than your last one." 

"Glad you like it," Lex returned dryly. "But I think what matters is if the buyers like it." 

"What I like the buyers will like," Lionel Luthor growled. 

Lex rolled his eyes, more than ready for the conversation to be over. "Well then, if you have no further questions . . ." 

"I was thinking, Lex, that we should have dinner. Thursday night." 

An eyebrow shot up. "Who's covering it?" 

"_The Planet_, two of the more important Metropolis new stations." 

"Ah, we must have done something good for the little people." 

"Indeed we have. I will see you there, Lex." 

"I can't make any promises. I'm not near my planner: I don't know if I'm free." 

"Oh don't worry about that. I already had my secretary check with yours. You aren't busy. I'll see you in Metropolis. Thursday." 

"Thursday." Lex flipped his phone closed, ending the conversation, and seriously considered throwing the black and silver device as hard and far as he could. But only if it would take his father with it. 

There was a fresh cup of coffee and a scone waiting for him when Lex slid back into his seat. Isis smiled pleasantly over her laptop when he stared too long. "Call go well?" 

"You could say that." He took an experimental drink of his coffee and found it not quite sweet enough. Sugar. Sugar. With practiced ease he turned the laptop completely around and asked Isis what she was working on, again. 

"You're looking at it." 

"Looks like a resume. Planning on extending your trip, or is this for future endeavors?" 

"Trip extension. And, if you hadn't noticed, Smallville's not the most interesting of places. Eventually Pete will get tired of me eating up all his free-time. I plan to be prepared," she said, reaching for it. 

Pushing the laptop out of his way, and hers, his eyes bright, Lex said, "You know, I was disturbed last night by the sound of squealing tires and yelling. I seem to remember it being distinctly female." 

"Oh?" She rested her forearms on each other and settled her weight deeper into the plush seat with all the leisurely ease of a cat. Chin on her wrist, Isis looked for all the world as if Lex had just caught her napping. He half expected her to purr. "And why are you telling me?" 

"I thought you might have some idea who it was." 

"Moi? _Non, non, ce n'est pas moi, Alexandre_. But it sounds like fun, doesn't it?" 

"That little car you have . . ." 

Her eyes narrowed, daring him to say anything about her baby. 

"I bet it can tear up the road." 

"Probably. But responsible drivers don't 'tear up the road.'" 

Lex knew his smile mirrored hers: lazy, casually sensual, challenging. He leaned forward. "Good thing we're not responsible drivers." 

"We're not?" Isis' eyes were bright too, her slow smile replaced with an almost feral grin. Too many teeth. 

"No, we're not." 

"What exactly do you suggest, Lex?" 

Lex could only grin. In his car back toward the mansion he speed dialed his father. He got Lionel's secretary. And yes, he would leave a message. "Tell him I won't be able to make dinner Thursday. I'm closing a deal and the principal funder is driving down with four of her investors. They could make or break this. We'll have to try again some other time. Dad'll understand." He cut the woman off before she could reply. 

* 

Thursday Afternoon, Oct. 9 

"Isis! I can't believe you agreed to this!" 

"Peter, darling, calm down. You're too young for a heart-attack." 

"I am not getting in a Luthor's car," he said, angry. 

"Then don't come along," Isis snarled back. She stalked off to her car. 

Clark, Lana and Chloe looked from her dancing braids to the still fuming Pete, unsure what to do. Chloe finally took charge, pushing Clark at Pete and Lana after Isis. "Me?!" Lana protested. 

"Yes you. Remember the other night, she said she knew you from way back when. Work with it." 

"Hey, she also said she barely remembered me. You two were all buddy-buddy_, you_ go talk to her," Lana said, propelling Chloe halfway. 

Pete was fuming long before Clark could say anything. "It's just like her, always doing some half-crazed thing without even asking me. She always assumes I'm gonna go along, just because we're cousins. It can't always be like that!" He whirled on Clark. "Don't you remember that summer she wanted us to leash your rooster?" 

"Isis was raised in Gotham. How was she supposed to know roosters aren't really meant to be tamed?" 

"Okay, then what about the summer she convinced you to go bald? And me to shave you?" 

"She wanted to be a beautician," but even Clark didn't sound like he believed it. "But this isn't like that, and my hair's grown back. This is just a really short, interesting race . . .girls against the boys. For once you get to beat Isis." 

"But that means riding in a car with Lex Luthor." 

"Pete, I keep trying to tell you, Lex isn't like his father. And besides, its not like you have to ride shotgun. You can enjoy your victory over Isis from afar," he smiled. 

"Clark?" He turned as Isis tapped on his shoulder, "Can I talk to Peter alone a minute?" He nodded and turned back, unsure whether to go to the girls or Lex who was stood alone by his car. The girls and Lex, he decided, walking to them first then gently herding them to the parked cars. 

"Peter . . . I'm sorry, Pete, if I've upset you. I know how much you hate the Luthors, although this one I can vouch for. Mostly." Pete snorted in disgust and turned away. "Oh don't be like that! No one's perfect. And if I know anything about Lex is that he can't stand his father." 

"But he's still a business man." 

"This isn't business, Peter." Isis wrapped her arms around Pete's neck. "I've been horrible lately, haven't I? Been spending all my time with Chloe and Lana or at The Talon or playing with my laptop. I've spent almost no time with you. Let's make a deal," she rested her chin on Pete's shoulder, "you do this one evil horrible thing for me, and tomorrow -- or whenever you want -- we'll do something. Just us. I'll spoil you rotten." She stood up. "I'll even play football with you and Clark. 

"But you don't have to. Pete . . .won't you look at me, please? At least to say how much you hate me and demand that I drive you home. Please, bro." 

Pete turned. "I don't hate you, Isis. You drive me crazy, sometimes. A lot. But I love you." 

"Geez . . .guilt trip me why don't you. All right, all right, I'll take--" 

"I never said I wouldn't go." 

"PETE!!" Isis attacked him, hugging him and jumping up and down. "I promise to make it up to you. Tomorrow, just you and me. I swear it. Oh Pete, you are gonna have so much fun!" 

"Yeah, well, don't spread it around, okay?" 

Isis mimed zippering her mouth shut. "Let's go people!" Whipping out her keys, Isis unlocked her car with the remote. "Get in girls, we got some fragile male egos to destroy." 

"Yay Pete!" Chloe and Lana cheered. Clark clapped his friend on the back, "It won't be that bad, I promise. You might even enjoy it." 

"That's what I'm afraid of." 

Lex tamped down on his impulse to hold the door open for them. "You are so gonna lose, Isis!" Pete called as he slid into the sleek black car. 

"We'll see who's eating dust, bro!" Isis was in the car and at the "Start" line before anyone could question her choice of endearments. Lana rode shotgun and admired her newfound legroom: Chloe put her feet up. She found herself wondering if Lex's car rumbled and purred the way Isis' did, but then they were off, tearing through Kansas cornfields. 

The top slides down. 

The girls let out a scream. 

The boys make funny faces through Lex's open windows. 

Lex and Isis gun it. 

A cow trots across the road. Slow. Slow. 

Isis remembers confirming "Seat-belts on?" "Check." "Check." as they spin out of control on narrow Kansas roads. 

Lex swerves. 

They're playing an impromptu, and unwanted, game of chicken. Can't stop the driving for the swerving. Especially when no one's killed their motor. 

Isis dives for the corn. 

Clark was out of the car before Lex could turn off the car. "Lana! Chloe!" 

"Isis!" Pete called, at his heels. Lex would later be very glad that he had resisted the urge to toss his phone as far and hard as he possibly could. He fished it from the glove compartment, trying to figure out which number to dial first and who's father was more likely to do more damage when this was all over: his, Clark's, Pete's, Chloe's or Isis'? Of course with his luck it would be some computation or permutation of the five. 

"We're okay," Chloe said, sitting half in and half out of the car. "Just shaky, right? I know my heart's still going ninety." 

Lana agreed. Isis leaned her head against the wheel. 

"Are you guys sure?" Clark asked. 

"Yeah, we're fine. You might wanna tell Lex, though. He's probably whipped his cell phone out, and God only know who he's called." 

Clark hightailed it out of the damaged field. 

"Isis, are you okay?" 

"I'm fine, Peter," she answered very calmly, raising her head from the wheel. 

"You're bleeding." 

She touched her forehead with gentle fingers. "So I am," she said with a frown. "Move back, Peter. Let me out. Are you all right Lana? Chloe? I have a First Aid kit in the trunk." They demurred. They didn't need the attention, but thanks anyway. Isis got it out for herself then allowed Pete to disinfect the cut. 

"It's bleeding a lot." 

"Head wounds do that." They all looked up. Lex had joined them in the field. "Would you like me to do that, Pete? I have First Aid training." 

"No thanks, Lex," animosity dripped with every word. "I think I can handle this." Isis caught his eyes. Play nice, they commanded. Pete managed to tack on a semi-genial, "Thanks," before finishing with her forehead. 

"No problem. I've called a towing company," he told her. "They'll be here soon." 

"Thank you, Lex," Isis said. "So long as they pull me out of this ditch I think I can drive fine. It's mostly body damage." 

"Will your insurance cover this?" 

The four teenagers -- Clark had returned -- felt distinctly talked over, although Isis kept rhythmically squeezing Pete's hand. He looked down. She was clenching and unclenching her other fist too. For a second he wondered if he and Clark could change places without her noticing. 

"I don't know. Somehow I don't think either drag racing or nearly running over slow moving cattle are covered in my insurance." 

"You should move to Kansas," Clark murmured. He found himself under Isis' and Lex's scrutiny. It felt just like when he commented on his parents' more serious conversations: uncomfortable. "My-my dad has insurance for cows." 

"I'll think about it. Oh well," she turned her attention back to Lex, "I wanted to get a new car anyway. You up to it, Pete?" 

"Huh?" 

"Tomorrow. Car shopping? We'll go to Metropolis after school if Uncle Mark will let you." 

Pete's eyes lit up. "You're serious, aren't you?" 

"Always serious about my gadgets, Peter." 

Lex knew he was ruining a moment when he opened his mouth, but he couldn't stop himself. "I can have my mechanic fix it for you." 

"Oh? That's nice Lex, but I really do need a new car if I'm gonna play chauffeur to Pete, et al. Something with four doors." Chloe and Lana nodded enthusiastically. 

"You'll get a better trade-in price if you fix it." 

"True. Probably get a better price if I sell it outright." Isis thought about it for a moment. "If I gave you the Cabriolet to fix up and sell for me, how much would you want of the profit? The fix is free of course. Since you already offered." 

He quoted a percentage. "That's crazy, Isis," Pete protested. "You could sell it yourself and keep all the money." 

"But I don't want to, bro. And the percent Lex quoted is fair. I know I could sell it on my own, but I'm still a girl. Men get their tidy-whities in a knot when it comes to women, cars and the buying or selling of cars from and to women. Watch, tomorrow you'll see. So Lex, is it a deal?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Shake on it?" The tow truck pulled up as their hands separated. 

* 

"So what happened?" Jonathan Kent asked, speaking for all the parents. 

They were all gathered at the Luthor Mansion. "We were on our way here . . ." Isis lied. 

"In two cars?" 

"Everyone can't fit in my car. Anyway, on the way here when a cow came out of nowhere. I swerved, had a minor spin out and ended up in the corn," she explained, omitting the racing aspect of it all. 

Everyone turned to Clark for confirmation, despite Isis' very earnest explanation. The action didn't pass unnoticed -- how could it? -- by anyone. "What?" Clark felt like he was under the microscope. "That's what happened. Driving, cow from nowhere, cornfield. In that order." 

"Who owns that field, by the way?" Isis asked. "I owe them for the crops I mowed under. And I might have given the cow a heart-attack." 

Chloe looked up at her father, "If the third degree is over, can we go now?" 

The assorted parents looked from one to the other, with a couple of tense glances at their children thrown in for squirmability. Lana was glad Nell was stuck at The Talon. Although it looked like either Lex or the Rosses were going to take her home. Looking at the Rosses' faces, Lana had her fingers crossed for Lex. "Um," she raised her hand timidly, "who's taking me home?" 

"I will," Lex said pushing himself off the far wall. He had stood in the wings, so to speak, watching the family drama take place. The Kents and the Rosses protested. "Its out of both your ways. It's not like I have anything more pressing to do, and I had planned to take Misses Lang and Sullivan home. Before the accident of course." 

There was a short pause. Lex pushed on before someone could think of the possible implications of a twenty-something man driving a seventeen year old girl home. Alone. "Besides, I'd like to assure Nell personally that she's all right." 

"And Nell likes you," Lana added. 

"That settled . . . Miss Lang, shall we?" 

No one had time to point out that Lana's house was out of Lex's way too. Isis winked and blew him a kiss as he slid inside his car. She kept her trembling hands to herself. 


	5. You know what? Screw them all

You know what? Screw them all 

* 

Friday Afternoon, Oct. 11

"Isis," Pete's father called, "your Dad on the phone for you." 

Isis and Pete turned around just as they were heading out the door. "Dad? Really? Tell him to call me on my cell phone in about fifteen minutes, Uncle Mark. He can talk to us while we drive to Metrop--" 

"I'm sorry, not your father, your grandfather." 

Isis made a face. "This'll only take a sec Pete, then we can go. Uncle Mark, we can still use the car, right?" He nodded. "Spiffy!" She took the phone from him, smiling broadly at Pete. "Hey Gran'pa, how's it shakin'? Not so bad. A little chilly, but hey, it's Kan-- 

"Actually me and Peter are going to Metropolis. See, I banged up the Benz and I needed a new car anyway, so I promised Pete-- 

"But I'm gonna be there in three hours anyway. More the longer this convo lasts." She turned back to Pete, but her eyes weren't shining quite as brightly as before. "Can't it wait until later in the week? It's not like I'm do-- 

"But didn't you hear, I banged up the Benz. My only car. It's being fi-- 

"I'm taking Uncle Mark's. What do you mean, 'Forget about it?' I promised Peter." Isis was still looking at her cousin, but she obviously wasn't seeing him. "Why can't this wait. At least until after we get the car. I'll have it by this eve-- 

"I can't _be_ there now, Grandfather. Grandfather how coul-- This just couldn't wait, could it? Fine! Just fine, I will see you in Metropolis as soon as the friggin' limo friggin' pulls up!" Isis hit the end button as if she wanted to put her finger through it. 

"Every time!" she fumed. "I swear this only happens when I've got something interesting planned. Do they have some camera on me or something? And you know what? It wouldn't be so bad if they would just let me bow out every now and then. Have they ever heard of the word compromise?" 

"Isis, what's wrong?" Pete asked. 

"Grandmother and Grandfather are in Metropolis and would like to see their only granddaughter. Never mind they're in town for the next month or so. Oh nooo. They made plans for tonight, _without me_, and by golly, by gum, they're gonna carry through with them. Whether I like it or not." 

"It's okay, Isis. We'll do it another time," he said lightly. 

"It is not okay! Now you see why my parents fought with them. And Dad still does! Controlling rat-bastards. Do you know Grandfather _already_ sent a limo? It should be here in minutes. They had this all planned. I probably wouldn't have minded as much if they had given me some sort of notice." 

"They probably didn't want you to say no." 

Isis gave him a long hard look. "You know what, Pete, when they finally meet you they are gonna be so blown away." 

"Why's that. And why would they meet me. They're your grandparents," he asked suspiciously. 

"Oh, did I forget to mention that, until I have kids, you're listed as my heir?" 

Pete's jaw dropped. 

"And because when they meet you -- and they're gonna want to eventually -- you're gonna see right through them." There was a knock on the door. Isis' eyes narrowed. "I bet that's my ride," she said sarcastically. "Tell Uncle Mark I won't be home tonight. Oh, forget about it, I'll call when I get to Metropolis. I love you Pete. You are the best bro ever." 

"Nah, I'm . . .I'm all right. You're the best bro ever." 

"Really, you think so?" A genuine, playful smile lit up her face. "You have no idea how much I wish you were coming too. Ugh! It's so mad with them. Bye Pete." 

"Bye," he called after her weakly. Elated and annoyed, Pete picked up the phone from the couch and dialed. "Hey Chloe. How long are you gonna be at the paper?" 

"I thought you and Isis were going to Metropolis?" 

"We were, but she got pulled away on business." He thought about telling her about Isis' revelation. 

"You sound bummed." 

"Is it that obvious?" Pete changed his mind. 

"I bet it'd be even more obvious if you came over here and helped me lay out Horoscopes." 

Pete was already up, walking the phone back the kitchen. "I thought you did Horoscopes already." 

"You get here and I'll tell you about it." 

"See you soon, Chloe." 

"I'm counting on it. I really need the help." 

Pete expected most of the work to be done by the time he got there. Chloe was not known for her slacker habits, at least when it came to _The Torch_. Surprise, surprise, surprise: "Oh my _God_! I am so happy you're here Pete. Yesterday's little game cost me major layout time. Don't get me wrong, it's the most fun and terror I've had in a while, but I'm going to be pulling huge overtime if I don't want to be here tomorrow. Well I _was_, but now you're here," Chloe finished brightly. "Oh don't look so glum," she said as Pete dropped himself heavily into a chair. 

There was a knock on the office door at 10:12. Pete knew because he had been checking his watch every four minutes, exactly. Not five minutes, four. "Maybe it's reinforcements," he said, checking his watch and glancing hopefully at his senior editor. 

"Maybe. Only one way to find out." Chloe let the persistent knocker in. "Lana?" 

Lana held up a tray of four grande cups. The smell of coffee preceeded her. "I know you didn't get any work done yesterday so I thought you might be needing a pick-me-up. And The Talon's all locked up for the night, so no costumers to worry about." 

Chloe snatched up a cup. Her face the image of religious rapture she declared that "You, Lana, are a saint." 

"Hmm, not from the looks I still get sometimes. Are you guys ever going to tell me what happened when that funny flower sneezed on me?" She handed Pete a cup and sat down with her own. 

"Not for us to tell. Who's the extra cup for, by the way?" Chloe asked, eyeing it hungrily over her own coffee. 

"I thought Clark might be here too. I'm surprised he isn't." 

"Farmwork." 

"Hey," Pete broke in, "how'd you know _I_ was here?" 

"Oh, I saw your Dad on my way to Talon. He told me. Isis is in Metropolis without you?" she asked, obviously confused. 

Pete explained the situation as best he could, leaving out his possible inheritance. "She seemed really pissed about it. I'm kinda glad they're not my grandparents. I'm not exactly eager to meet them. The paternal ones are just fine, thank you." 

"And your grandmother's pecan pie has got to be the best this side of the Great Plains," Lana reminded them all. There was a collective groan. 

Chloe reached for the second cup. "Isis is a big girl. She can handle a pair of geezers." 

* 

_Thrum _

Thrum 

Thrum 

sweat-slick sweet bodies/hot-sweet smell of sweat from bodies 

so closeso closeso close 

Press 

and 

Press 

and 

Press 

Yes this 

forget that 

there's only this/and this is bliss 

BlissThrumBlissThrumBlissThrum 

it all twists 

and yes 

Press 

Press 

Press 

i'll take it/twist it/screw it -- Baby yes, It feels good 

yeah that feels good? 

-- Baby yes, It feels good 

gimme a new heart 

gimme a new mind 

gotta lose my mind to the sweat-slick sweet bodies full up of hot-sweet smell of sweat from bodies 

that are just so closeso closeso close they just press and press and pre-- and twist and twists 

Yes it all twists 

and trips 

and skips 

and falls 

Gotta lose my mind 

Gonna lose my mind 

"My mind." 

* 

"Lex. . . Come get me." 

"Who the hell is this and what time is it?" 

"It's Isis, Le--" 

"How'd you get this number?" 

"Get me and I'll tell you." 

Much as he didn't want to be, Lex was very much awake. "And why would I want to do that?" 

" 'Cause I'm Trippin'." Now as trump cards went, that wasn't one Lex would have thrown out, but Isis wasn't done yet. "And if I'm not mistaken you've got all these kids thinking you're decent. Maybe not Pete, but the rest of 'em. Helping out the high cousin and newfound friend would really solidify that, wouldn't it? Or at least not make you look like the total worthless bastard we both know and love from Metro U." 

"My, my, I've never known a loquacious Tripper." 

" 'S my forte." 

She was right of course. It would look very good with the locals. He didn't have to mention the drug problem. No, that was better kept close to his chest for more appropriate use later. 

"God, Lex," Isis hissed. "It's bad. Come get me, please." 

"Why me, Ice?" 

"I really don't need Pete seeing me like this. You've done it. It can get nasty." 

"What if I refuse." 

"My grandparents have set me up in nice little digs here in Metropolis. I'm sure the staff can be paid off to ignore my odd behavior. But I'd really like to go home, Lex, and if I can't get to Gotham, Smallville's a nice alternative." 

"Don't enjoy the old folks?" 

"How _is_ LL senior these days, Lex? Have any fun father-son conversations of late? Been ordered to have a business dinner, despite your own plans, in Metrop--" He heard her cry out faintly over the phone. "Screw it," her voice was less than steady. "I will call a cab," she said slowly, carefully. "Goodnight, LL." 

"I'll pick you up. Where are you?" 

An hour and a half, and a roundly broken speed limit, later Isis was bundled up in the passenger seat of the Lambhourgini. "I was . . .I was kinda hoping for the other car. The black one. Darkness," she whispered. " 'Where is my Darkness?'" 

Lex ignored her, concentrating on making the trip to and from Metropolis three hours, round-trip, instead of its three one-way. 

Isis snuggled deeper into the blankets he had thoughtfully brought with him. "Nothing to say, LL? No questions? Trying to figure out how quickly you can kick me out?" 

"You're not staying at the Mansion." 

"Like I'm going home to Uncle Mark's. Yeah fr-friggin' right, Lex. Just find me a room in the most deserted dungeon you've got in that castle, then you and the servants can ignore the screams." 

"It might not be that bad," he said blandly. Making conversation. Hello, you've reached the automated conversation with Lex device. For real emotion, i.e. a Lex that cares, please matter. Thank you. 

"Don't talk to me like that Lex, like you're so much better than me," Isis shot back weakly, staring at things she knew were never seen on Kansas roads at any time of day or night. Just in her imagination. "Tell me you've never fallen back into the old life. That you've never done anything stupid, if only because it was so familiar: if only because that scene was closer to being home than anything in the real world." 

He spared her a glance, but that was all the discussion he was going to get from her. She'd be a little less than lucid for the next five hours. At least. 

Yeah Lex, he told himself, you've never gone back. It had never looked inviting. Not to you, Lex. Not to you. 

"So how loud was I?" Isis asked some time after noon the next day. 

"On a scale of one to ten?" Isis nodded. "A nine for loudness, an eleven for piercing-quality." 

"I haven't Tripped in a long time." 

"So say my eardrums." 

"I'm sorry Lex. For butting into your life. For whatever I said last night. I remember some of it, but not all. It's not nice anyway." 

He snorted. "I notice you aren't taking any of it back." 

"It's all true." 

A short bark of laughter escaped him. "You, my Ice Princess, are fully recovered. So, mind if I asked what happened?" 

"So you can reprimand me like a child? I've had more than enough of that, thank you. It's part of the bloody reason --" 

"What happened," he prodded gently. 

Isis explained, as concisely as possible, her grandparents. The similarities to Lionel Luthor's authoritarian style were unmistakable. "They had even rented a hotel room for me, for when I left in a huff. They knew exactly what they were doing. I went out clubbing and . . . Paint your own picture, I really don't care to. I just needed to get out of Metropolis. Less than two whole weeks in Smallville and I was already pining for open fields. God only knows what I'm gonna do when I go home to Gotham." 

"Readjust." 

"Succint as always. Now if you don't mind," she motioned him to move his chair back as she swung her legs over the side of the guest-bed. "I really should be going. I've impinged on your time and hospitality far long enough. _Merci beaucoup, Alexandre_." 

"_Vous êtes l'accueil_, Isis." He rose to leave. "My driver will take you to the Rosses." 

"The formal, Lex? Hmm. You must remind me to thank you properly one day," she called after him. 

He promised himself he would. 


	6. It's all about the

It's all about the . . . 

*

Saturday, Oct. 12

Isis was sitting on the couch, channel-surfing, when Pete came home. "How'd it go?" he asked, dropping down beside her. "Can I have some?" He picked up her half full glass of water. 

"Crappy. And yeah, drink on. You don't have to ask, just don't finish it. I'm sorry I let you down. You feel up to going to Metropolis today? I asked Uncle Mark and he said it'd be okay." 

"Why don't we wait till Monday. It's Columbus Day and, you know, no school." 

"I thought you might want to hang out with your friends." 

"Friends schmends." 

"Peter!" 

He laughed. "Joking, joking of course." 

"Well I have an interview on Monday, but if you really want to do it then, I can postpone till Tuesday." 

Pete stood up. "Nah, let's do it now, before something else comes up." 

Isis jumped up and let out a shout. "Now _that's_ my bro! Woo woo woo!" She yipped and yelped all the way to Metropolis, while Pete looked out the window, making faces and generally pretending he was more embarrassed than he was. 

"Okay," she cautioned him as they stepped out of the family car, "they're gonna want to sell us the lot hooptie, especially if I go in there first. So-o, not only am I wearing sneakers, i.e. you get to be taller than me for once -- don't get used to it -- but you get to do all the talking." 

"What?" Pete whipped around. "Are you crazy? I don't know anything about luxury cars!" 

"Yeah, right. Because you didn't list every accessory and do-dad and gadget in the Benz, in like five seconds, as soon as you saw it." 

"Well . . ." 

"Well nothing. So you're choosing the car, okay? Anything you want. My only restriction is that it has to be four-door. Unless you want to explain to Chloe and Lana why one of them has to be folded up in the back. Again." Pete shook his head vigorously. "S'what I thought. And my second restriction . . .it has to have a red color option." 

"_Isis_." 

"What?! _I'm_ paying for it. And every car comes with a black and silver option, but not always a red. Black-cherry red. Or merlot, or wine or--" Pete shook his head and headed inside. "Hey," Isis called after him, "I mean it!" 

Pete had already talking to one of the dealers by the time Isis made it inside. She'd forgotten to pay the meter. "This is my cousin, Isis." She gave her best shy-smile, wrapped an arm around Pete's waist and waved at the dealer. 

"Nice to meet you Isis. My name's George, but everyone calls me Reynolds." 

"Like the foil?" 

He laughed, but she could see he didn't appreciate the connection. "Something like that. So, Peter," he said, giving Isis all the attention one gives a turd, "did you have anything in mind?" 

"Um," he glanced at Isis at his shoulder, "we were looking for something with four doors--" 

"And red," she reminded. 

"And red," he repeated with a smirk. 

Reynolds led them to his desk. "Ah. Many of our cars have red as a color choice." 

"Can we see them?" Pete asked. Isis pinched his side. "Later," she hissed in his ear when he threw an evil look her way. 

"Sure. This way." 

As they followed Reynolds out his office, Isis commanded Pete to: "Stop with eager-beaver! Especially after he shows you the local put-put." 

"He is not! Stop being such a pessimist, Isis. This isn't Gotham." 

"No, it's Metropolis," she mumbled to herself, but they were out on the showroom floor, in front of their "dream car," a la Mr.. George Reynolds. 

Stepping aside to let them see the wonder-car he started listing its attributes. Pete and Isis were too busy staring openmouthed. Reynolds, unfortunately, got the wrong impression. "Great car, I know. It's a perfect first for a young student wanting to get around the city. And, of course, it does come in red. Now we have very low, no interest financing. It does--" 

Isis turned around and laughed. Hard. A bend over and rest your hands on your knees kind of laugh that gave Reynolds the impression that she was a few cents short of a dollar. "Is your cousin all right?" 

"Um . . ." How exactly to answer that one? "Yeah. She's fine. I guess. I'll be right back. _Isis_," he hissed. 

"Tell me it isn't funny." 

"It's . . . It's not. It's not fun-" He covered his mouth as a snort escaped him. 

"Oh no. Oh no. Don't start. Okay, looks like I get to handle this one." She grabbed Pete's hand and strode back to the dealer. "Reynolds right?" He nodded. "Um, the car we're replacing is worth more than this, with damage. Which it is. Damaged. You've got to have something better." 

"Well looking at your financial sta--" 

"What financial status? You haven't even checked our credit. You just assumed. You _do_ know what happens when you assume, right?" Pete pinched her before she could continue. "We want a car, remember?" he hissed. 

Leaning into his ear, she whispered, "Tell him the magic words, Peter." 

"What 'magic words'!" he hissed. Isis rubbed her finger together in the age-old symbol of cash. "Oh." Pete turned to Reynolds: "Money is no object." Who then had the audacity to laugh himself. "Check our credit," Pete threatened. Isis ribbed him. "Er, _her_ credit. Isis is paying." 

She smiled sweetly. Which didn't fade when her credit came back approved. For anything on the lot. One of everything if she wanted it. "How about we go look at the cars again?" 

Pete thought it sounded like a plan. Reynolds trailed behind, properly whipped. "What about that one?" 

"A BMW 430," Reynolds supplied. 

Isis turned and looked up at him, "But wouldn't that be a comedown from what we had?" 

"What did you have?" 

"Mercedes-Benz CLK 430 Cabriolet." 

Reynolds nodded, feeling more at ease as they got into car-talk. "The 5-series might be good for you." He walked them over. 

"What do you think, Pete. It's your choice, bro." 

Pete walked around the cars studying them. "I don't know. Too big. What're the features." Reynolds ran them down for him. "Is there anything else?" 

"There's the 745i." 

"Let's go." Pete's and Isis' eyes widened as they eyed the squared, silver monster. 

"It's so not sleek," Isis said, turning her head sideways as if that would change the car's shape. "It's a little scary even. Pete, do you like it?" 

"If I say yes, that wouldn't be horrible, would it?" Isis shook her head. "What's this one do, Reynolds?" 

He looked down at his clipboard. "Just making sure this is the one that comes with an instructor." 

"An instructor!" the cousins spat out together. 

"And a twenty-four hour access to a technician accessible within the car or over the phone." 

Isis dragged Pete down the line. "Hey," he protested, "I thought _I_ got to choose." 

"You're not the one who has to live with this thing! I did _not_ float through my college career just to have to write a paper on my ride. Shoot, I'll buy you your own car when you graduate." 

"Really?" 

"I'll think about it. Okay, Reynolds, what else you got for us? And please say no more teachers are involved." 

He chuckled. "No more, I promise. Let's get away from the BMW's then. How about a Jag?" 

"Ooh," they said together. "You wanna?" Isis asked. Pete nodded enthusiastically. "Gotta love a Jag, Peter. They're the eternal head turner, at least in the States. Probably in Europe too." She turned to Reynolds for confirmation. He nodded. "Although," her brow wrinkled, "I took a ride in my friend's and, though pretty, not as comfy as a Cadillac STS . . . which is what he had before." 

Pete stopped and turned to his cousin. "Am I choosing the car or are you?" 

"You are." 

"Then shuddup!" 

Isis stuck out her tongue. Pete made a move to cut it out of her mouth. 

"And the Jaguars are this way," Reynolds moved between the playful bickerers. The cousins made faces behind his back. "The one to Peter's right is an S-type, the one in the middle is an X-type and the one to Peter's left is one of the new XK-types." 

Pete turned to Reynolds, "What do you think? Any preferences?" 

"How about a test drive?" 

During the twenty-minute drives around and through Metropolis, Reynolds explained the various points and features of each kind of car. Pete decided he liked the X-type best of the three. "Besides, the XK's a sports car, and we're looking for a sedan." 

"So," Reynolds asked, "shall I draw up the ownership papers?" 

"Not so fast, Reynolds." Isis stopped him. "This is the only test-drive we've done Pete. Let's at least try something else. What else have you got?" 

Reynolds led them on as he talked. "There's always the Mercedes-Benz 5-series." 

"I thought we looked at those." 

"No, those were the BMW's," Pete told Isis. 

"Why didn't you show us these before?" she asked Reynolds. 

"I thought you might want a change from the Benz." 

"Peter?" 

He shrugged. "It can't hurt to look at them." So they did. Five steps or so moved them from low sleek England to even sleeker Germany. "They look nice." 

Isis nodded. "Real nice," she agreed. "You wanna drive it?" 

Reynolds went to fetch the keys for the models in the garage. The cousins trailed him slowly, talking between themselves. "So what's up with you, Pete?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You know, girlfriend . . .school . . .people you want I should make an example of," she said with a bad Mafia accent. "You know, normal stuff." 

"We went over all that. What about you? Boyfriend . . .work . . .people you need me to beat up," he said, pounding his fist into his palm. 

"No boyfriend, I'm working on work and I got my own stinkin' bodyguards if I need someone pounded." Pete's raised eyebrows asked if she were telling the truth. Isis only grinned. "But thanks anyway, bro. Sometimes I wish you were my brother." 

"Same here. But my sister." 

"When did that change? I thought Sarah was sister enough." 

"Are you guys ready?" Reynolds asked. "The car's out front." 

Twenty minutes later Pete and Isis had almost made up their collective mind. They climbed out of the car beaming at each other. "I like it? Do you like it?" Isis asked. 

"Like it." They reentered the dealership. "That car was aweso-" 

"What?" Pete redirected her attention across the showroom floor. "Oh. What're those?" she asked Reynolds. 

He followed their pointed hands. "I'm honestly not sure. Those just came in today. You guys go have a look and I'll get a print-up of the specs." 

The cousins pushed and shoved to get to the cars first, while trying not to run and seem even more immature. "Pete they're pretty." 

"They're hot." 

"They're phat." 

"Let's get one." 

Isis turned to look at him. "Okay! . . .Which one?" 

"Oh." 

" 'Oh' is right. It's up to you Peter." 

He walked around the two cars, eyeing them, kicking the tires, squatting to check on nothing in particular. "Which do you like, Isis?" 

"I like'em both." 

"But which is your favorite?" 

"Doesn't matter. It's up to you, remember. Which is _your_ favorite?" 

Pete checked the ticket prices. "Well this one costs more." 

Isis smiled. "It's not what costs more that's important, but what you like. Do you _like_ the more expensive one better? Or do you like the other one?" 

"I bet this one does more," he pointed to the more expensive one. 

"But which one can you live with being driven to school in every day?" 

"Here are the specs," Reynolds said as he returned. "That one's the AMG-series E55. The other one's the AMG-series C32, both by Mercedes-Benz. But you could see that," he pointed to the cars' hood ornaments. 

Pete turned to him. "I've decided."  
"Already?" 

"That one." 

"I'll draw up the papers." They followed Reynolds back to his desk. Sounds of the other salesmen working filled the space of their silence as he worked. Isis had already explained that they needed the car by Monday, no later than Tuesday morning, eight a.m. Shipping costs were no problem. 

"Hey." 

"What?" They both said, surprised by Reynolds' outburst. 

"Another car's been added to AMG-series. Would you like to see it?" 

Isis muttered, "Too many cars, too many cars!" even as Pete gave a wholehearted, "Yeah!" 

He turned his computer monitor so they could see the pictures and specs on his computer. "It's a bit more expen--" 

"I want it," Pete blurted out. He looked at Isis. "I want it. Can we get it?" 

Isis turned to Reynolds. "How hard is it to change the title papers?" 


	7. Someday, somewhere, I'll embarass you

Someday, somewhere, I'll embarrass you 

*

Monday, Oct. 14

"Ms. Ross," Principal Kwan stood as his newest prospective teacher stepped into his office. "How are you today?" 

"Good." She shook his hand then sat. "Thank you." 

"So, right to business: I've been looking over the resume you sent. I don't see anything in your background that would be beneficial to this school." 

"I do have a degree in both Business and English, sir." 

"That doesn't mean you can teach," Principal Kwan said bluntly. 

"No, it doesn't. Nor am I looking for a teaching position, per se. I was thinking more along the lines of substitute." 

"Ah." 

"And beyond that . . . I heard about the endowments of computers Mr.. Luthor bestowed on Smallville High last year. I can get you other things that the school needs like--" 

"How?" Principal Kwan demanded, leaning forward at his desk. 

Isis scooted forward in her chair. "Writing grants, sir. For the school." 

He snorted. "We can do that ourselves." 

"But do you and your staff have the time?" She waited for an answer. "You don't. Everyone in your employ is busy doing other, important work. I on the other hand could spend my time, when not substituting, repaying my 'debt' by getting money for the school. Not just money but equipment, sponsorships, scholarships, special afterschool programs . . .if it can be got I'll get it. Or at least put in an articulate request for it." Isis sat back, pleased with herself. If Principal Kwan rejected her offer it would be out of spite and pride. 

"You're related to Peter Ross, aren't you?" 

"Yes." She didn't explain the exact nature of their relationship. 

"If I hired you, how am I to know that you wouldn't show Mr.. Ross favoritism?" 

Crossing her legs comfortably, Isis said, "You don't. I can only promise that I won't. As my resume shows I _do_ have a degree in Business, Principal Kwan. Showing Mr.. Ross any kind of preference over other students wouldn't be ethical. I would only be a substitute teacher, however, and wouldn't be in any position to show him any kind of favor. Substitute teacher . . . not exactly a position of power, Principal Kwan and that's precisely why I want the position. I don't think grant-writing will help or hurt Mr.. Ross any more or less than it will every other student." 

"You are very eloquent, Ms. Ross." Isis inclined her head in acknowledgment. "But I'm afraid your appearance isn't exactly one that the student body of Smallville is used to seeing in their teachers." 

That was about as close as most people got to saying they didn't like Isis' hair. She had been very careful to be as professional as possible for their meeting. Her braids were pulled back in a neat bun so that their rainbow colors were less obvious. She was wearing one of the only three suits she'd brought with her. 

"As I've been saying, sir, I don't believe as a substitute the children will be very much influenced by me. When I'm not covering a class I plan to be here, in the main office, or in the town library, or at my laptop researching and writing up grants." 

Kwan didn't seem to be impressed. 

"If you believe my . . .appearance would be truly disruptive to the student body then I am willing to change my hairstyle . . ." Only barely. "But I would hope that Smallville's students would be a bit more open-minded. But they are your students." She smiled sweetly. "You know them best." 

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Isis' smile never wavered, nor did her eyes, although she stopped seeing him after a moment. "No." Isis' vision snapped back into focus as Principal Kwan continued, "No, I don't believe that will be necessary." 

"Does that mean you're hiring me?" 

"Yes, Ms. Ross, it does." 

A grin split Isis' face. Principal Kwan stood and she did also. "Thank you. This is the kind of background experience I will surely find useful when I go home. You shan't regret it." 

A smile graced Principal Kwan's face for the first time. Isis thought that she might have to change her opinion of him. He took her outstretched hand. "I'm sure I won't, Ms. Ross. Enjoy your Columbus Day. I'll be seeing you tomorrow?" 

"Yes. I'm Peter's ride. Have good day, Principal Kwan." 

* 

"Whoa! Check it out!" 

A hush fell over Smallville High's parking lot as a sleek dark red car pulled into the lot. Whitney ribbed Clark who had the misfortune of walking behind his fellow football players. "Yo, Pete's cousin get a new car?" 

"I guess so," he answered noncommittally. 

The deep red car slid to a smooth stop in front of them. "Mercedes-Benz SLK430, AMG-series. Sweet." 

"Mmm," Isis purred, getting out of the passenger side door, "a man who knows his car. I like it." 

Pete slid out of the drivers side, opened the back door and grabbed his bookbag. "Clark!" 

"Hey Pete!" 

Isis caught his arm as he came around the car and gave Pete a hug. "See you later?" 

"Yeah, Isis," he said, only half there, eager to regale his fellows with tales of driving a Benz. 

"All right, I obviously don't matter. Git." She went around to the drivers side. "Hey Clark," she called before sliding in. 

He waved at her as she pulled off. "Isis let you drive her car?" 

"That's practically my car, man! _I _ picked it out." 

"And are my eyes playing tricks on me, or were the rims still spinning when you stopped?" 

"Clark, that was no trick of your eyes. It's these special hubcaps-- Oh, hey Whitney. Anyway, it's these hubcaps that have another part on top that's loose and they keep spinning even when you stop." Pete grinned from ear to ear. "I added that. Isis doesn't like it, but she promises to leave them on until she goes back home." 

Brow furrowed Clark asked what she was going to do with them. 

"Give 'em to me," Pete said, still grinning. "Chloe!" He waved his friend down. "Hey, did _The Torch_ come out? How does it look?" 

"Hey Clark, Pete, yeah. The paper looks surprisingly awesome. I'm sure it was that last minute caffeine boost from Lana." 

Surprise made Clark's face blank. "Lana came over Friday night?" 

"Yup, and you missed it big guy." Chloe and Pete ignored Clark's pathetic slump as he trailed them from their lockers to their first class of the day. 

"Hey, Pete." 

The group turned as one. "Hey, Whitney. What's up? Practice change?" 

"No. Um, just wondering about your cousin's car." 

Pete's smile returned. "It's sweet, isn't it. I'll tell you about before practice, we're gonna be late for class." 

"Cool." 

It was Clark's turn to roll his eyes. "You know, I didn't really think this football thing would last." 

"Hey, you were right there with him for a little while," Chloe reminded him. 

Clark groaned. "Let's get to class. I heard a rumor Mr.. Kinnick is out." 

"We have a substitute?" 

"Maybe." 

"Great! I bet I can convince him to let me out of class so I can work on my article." 

"What article?" both boys asked. 

Chloe shrugged. "I'll find something." 

They filed into class just as the first period bell rang. Rumors of their missing teacher buzzed about the classroom, rising even higher as the late bell rang and no adult made his or her presence known. Packs of playing cards were withdrawn from bookbags, headphones and portable CD-players saw the forbidden light of the school-day, as did cell phones. 

"Can you help me? I'm looking for my class." She handed her possible-white knight her schedule. 

"It's right there," he said pointing down the hall. "You're already late you know." 

"I know. Thanks." 

He watched her walk confidently, if quickly, down the hall, wondering where he had seen rainbow hair like hers before. 

Isis walked into room 407. "HEY! Is this Modern English?" 

There were a couple affirmatives and the odd miss-thrown paper ball. 

"Great. I'm your new sub, Miss Ross." No one seemed to pay her much mind. Isis tried raising her voice over the noise. She was absorbed into the din. It was time to try a new tack, she decided. Dropping her books onto the desk she caught the attention of two students sitting directly in front of her. 

Loud enough for these two to hear she said, "If you can hear me clap once." _Clap._ "If you can hear me clap twice." _ClapClap._ "If you can hear me clap three times." _ClapClapClap._ By that time she had gained a good measure of the class' attention. "Nifty. If you can hear me clap three times." _ClapClapClap._ "If you can hear me clap _six_ times." 

By the fifth clap, much of the class had joined in, wondering what in heaven was going on. "If you can hear me clap twice." _ClapClap._ "If you can hear me clap _seven_ times." There were a few odd grins as the entire class clapped along, still unable to figure out what was going on. 

"Nice. And that only took about five minutes. Now, as I was trying to say, I'm you new sub for today and tomorrow, Isis Ross. You can call me Isis or Miss Ross or even Miss Isis. Those are your only options. And of course Miss if you forget my name." 

The class looked at her as if she had two heads and while one was speaking rationally the other was making faces at them. Especially Pete. Clark and Chloe looked from him to Isis expectantly. He just kept shaking his head, although whether to clear it or convey he had no answers was unclear. 

"Some of you know me as Mr.. Ross' crazy-haired cousin from Gotham. And if you didn't you do now." 

"So what?" someone called out from the back row. 

"I'm older than all you guys and they're giving me a paycheck so that means I get to be the boss. And I like being bossy. So get over it. Anywho, I'm not so old that I don't remember what it's like to have a sub, so you guys can pretty much have the period free--" 

The classroom was immediately filled with student voices. Five minutes later they were clapping along after Isis. "People, people, people . . .I'd rather not have to do this every time I want your attention. Next I'll rake my nails across the blackboard. I promise." That calmed them quickly. "Look, you can talk quietly, play games . . .quietly, listen to music, talk on the phone, whatever, so long as you do it . . ." She gestured for them to fill in the blank. 

"_Quietly_." 

"I knew you guys were bright. Mr.. Ross told me so." Pete immediately flushed as bright a red as he could. "Now, I do have an assignment for you guys that'll be due tomorrow." There were assorted groans and grumbles from the class. "It's fairly simple, you can do it now and hand it in to me at the end of class or you can give it to me tomorrow. Whatever. I'll be writing it on the board while you guys talk." And that is what they proceeded to do. "Just make sure you get it before you leave!" Isis turned to the blackboard. When she sat down again Pete was standing in front of her desk. "Mr.. Ross, how may I be of assistance?" 

"Don't 'Mr.. Ross' me! Why didn't you tell me you got a job at my school? That you were subbing for my class?!" he hissed. 

"Peter, calm down. I wanted the job thing to be a surprise. And how was _I _ supposed to know this was your English class? There are a half-dozen English classes in this school, you could have been in any of them." 

"_Isis_." 

"Look, I thought it'd be a thing where'd we'd pass each other in the hall and I winked at you or something. If you want to blame someone, blame Principal Kwan. He could have told me you were in this class when he gave me the assignment." 

"Why don't I believe you?" 

Isis shrugged. "Beats me. You'll learn to live with it, Pete, I'm sure. Just do the assignment, or not, and we'll both survive. It's only until Thursday. Now go sit down before Kwan comes in and accuses me of nepotism. Again." 

A frown of disbelief on his face, Pete returned to the circle of his friends. 

"Ice-- Er, Ms. Ross?" 

Isis looked up into Chloe's too-earnest face. "Yes Ms. Sullivan," she said too-pleasantly. 

"May I be excused?" 

"Might I ask why?" 

"I have an article to write for the paper." 

"Really? What about?" 

"Um . . ." 

"You come up with something a little more definite and I'll let you go." 

"C'mon Isis," Chloe whispered, "for old time's sake." 

Isis raised an eyebrow. "I'm acting teacher, Clo. You've got about . . ." Isis checked her watch. "You've got about 17 minutes to figure out something." Three minutes later Chloe, bag in hand, had returned to Isis' desk and was out the door. 

"Hey, what's going on?" 

Isis looked up from the books scattered across her desk. "Uh . . ." She searched the pile for the class roster. "Ah, Mr.. Strauss, what 'goings on' are you referring to exactly?" 

"Chloe Sullivan leaving the class for no reason." 

"She did not. Ms. Sullivan had a valid excuse for leaving early." 

"Yeah? What?" 

Isis' eyes grew hard and Peter could be heard muttering an "Oh crap." With a pleasantness that bordered on frigid she said, "That is between Miss Sullivan and myself." 

Clark leaned over to Pete. "Is she usually like this?" 

"Only when you piss her off." 

"Remind me not to piss her off." 

"Is there anything else you wanted to know, Mr.. Strauss," Isis said. The room had become very quiet as everyone waited for his answer. She decided his minimal head-shake was it and returned to her work. Everyone gradually returned to their work. 

"Well I guess Chloe got her way," Clark said. "But, man, I've never seen your cousin like that before." 

Pete shook his head. "It doesn't happen a lot. You've gotta, like, usurp her authority or something. 

"I thought only Lex could be that . . .I don't know." 

"Intimidating?" 

"I guess. But not really. Mom's pretty good at it when she wants you to do something. But it doesn't just happen, you know? Like you can kind of figure out what's going to make it tri--" 

_RIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!_

The volume rose considerably as the class bell rang. 

"Okay guys! Make sure you've got the assignment." The class stilled imperceptibly as Isis yelled out the assignment over them: "Write a poem or short story of no less than one typewritten page about what you did last summer or any story from your anthology. It's due tomorrow people!" 

And then they were gone. 


	8. With the world

[I'm in love] With the world through the eyes [of a girl who's] still around 

(or Evr'a body in they Sunday best) 

*

Saturday Night, Oct. 12

Lex couldn't be sure it was Isis in the car with Peter Ross as they drove past him and the Talon, but turning to watch them go by he caught sight of what seemed to be rainbow streamers flying out the passenger window that were, inexplicably, attached to a person's head. Isis, most assuredly. 

He'd had Enrique drop her off at the Ross' as soon as she was able to go, much earlier that afternoon. Around four or so, when he had been too busy frustrated over yet another piddling point his father refused to let go, and couldn't be bothered to see, talk or even listen to another soul, his answering service had recorded a single message for the entire hour. " 'Til next time." The five and six o'clock hours were busier -- last minute business calls before stock exchange floors closed for the day. Seven had been deadly quiet. Lex hadn't gotten around to checking his messages until sometime around nine. 

And now it was after ten with the two younger Rosses returning from a trip to Metropolis, apparently. Lex contemplated the cousins over lukewarm coffee. Milk. No sugar. 

"Lex?" 

He looked up. "What can I do for you Miss Lang?" 

"Get up," Lana said frankly. "Go home. I don't mean to be rude, Lex, but it's going on eleven and I still need to finish cleaning," she pointed to his cup, saucer and the remains of a pastry. "And then I have to lock up . . . It's not like _you're_ going to do it," she murmured, rolling her eyes, turning her back on Lex. 

"Sure, I will." 

Lana spun around. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. You didn't just agree to close Talon for me so I can get out of here, did you? No way. I must be losing my mind." 

"But I did," Lex affirmed as he slid smoothly out of his seat and closed the small distance between them. "You've obviously had a long day and would probably like nothing better than a long hot bath, or a refreshing shower." He watched as Lana's eyes began to shine thinking of the wonders hot running water could work. "I've helped you close once or twice before. It isn't very hard." 

"What about the keys?" Lana asked, shaking herself out of her fantasy. 

"You don't have a spare set?" 

"Yes, but--" 

"I'll drop these off with Nell sometime tomorrow. If I haven't had a chance to by the time you open you'll use the extras," he finished with a faint smile. "It's all right, Lana," Lex said, smoothing a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "You're tired. Go home." 

"What about your cup and your--" 

"I _do_ know how to wash dishes, Miss Lang." 

"Sorry." 

"You'll only be sorry if I change my mind." 

Lana immediately straightened. "You are so right." She went to the back room to get her things, talking the entire time. "Here you are, offering me the chance to see my bed before midnight for a change, and here I am arguing with you. It must be the sleep deprivation. Thank you, Lex." Impulsively, Lana stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 

Color immediately suffused her cheeks. Lex regarded her calmly. Shaking her head, Lana turned and headed for the door muttering, "I definitely need sleep. Lots of sleep," all the way. 

Lex was true to his word: he washed and put away his stoneware and then proceeded to shut down Talon. Unlike the weary Miss Lang, Lex was still mentally and physically hyped from both the business proposal he was working on and his last cup of coffee, and so finished in the less than half the time it usually took Lana. He'd lived in Smallville for over a year and the deserted streets still amazed him. New York may have held the title of "City that Never Sleeps" but Metropolis wasn't far behind. Smallville on the other hand shut down promptly at six, seven at the latest. Places like the Talon, open until ten, were rare indeed. Lex walked to his car alone, in silence, the clicking of his heels his only company. 

"Call information," Lex said as he sped down deserted Smallville streets. He listened as his cell phone made the connection. 

"How may I be of service to you this evening, Mr.. Luthor?" a mild male voice asked. 

"I need the cell phone number of one Isis Ross." 

"Ross is a fairly common family name, sir. Do you have any other information that might narrow our search, like a location?" 

Lex pulled up across the street from the dark Ross house. "The number is probably registered to a Gotham account, but Isis Ross and her cellular phone are residing in Smallville, Kansas at the moment. Is that helpful?" 

"Yes, sir. One moment please." 

Lex sat in his car waiting, watching the Rosses, wondering which room was Isis'. 

"Mr.. Luthor?" 

"What do you have for me?" 

The operator rattled off a short list of names and numbers. "But the first one is the only number that fits your search parameters exactly." 

"Thank you." Lex hung up, removed his cell phone from the apparatus that allowed it to work through his speaker system, and got out of his car. He dialed the first, and most probable, number from memory. 

A light went on in the attic across the street. 

"Isis." 

"Lex? How did you get this number?" 

"That doesn't matter now. There are some things I wanted to discuss with you. I was wondering if we could meet." 

"Now?" 

"Yes." 

"It's late, Lex, for me to be borrowing my uncle's car and the Mansion's a little ways off." 

"Look outside your window, Ice." 

"Huh?" 

"Just do it." 

He'd watched her silhouette pace behind her curtains, now Lex watched as she pulled aside the curtain and scanned the street. Suddenly the light went out. 

"What are you doing here?" Isis hissed. 

"I told you I needed to speak with you." 

Isis snorted. "So you're here in the middle of the night?" He could see her shaking her head. "It sounds more like you're looking for trouble." She was outside, carefully making sure she wasn't locked out, wrapped in a blanket. 

"Me? Looking for trouble? Never." 

Isis snapped her cellular phone shut as she crossed the street. "Yeah right." 

Lex looked into her upturned face and said the first thing that came to mind: "You're rather short." 

"I'm in slippers," she returned, chuckling in disbelief to herself. "I think you're used to seeing me in heels. I know I'm used to talking to you in them." Isis took a step backward. "There, that's better. I don't have to look as high. So is this real business you wanted to discuss or are we just shooting the frigid breeze?" 

"Oh, it's real business," Lex assured her. "Let's get in the car." 

Isis gratefully slid in. She started when he turned the key in the ignition. "And where exactly are we going, buddy?" 

"My place." 

With a quirk of her lips Isis told him that, "There was a time I wouldn't have gone another inch with you after an invitation like this." 

"This isn't an invitation." 

"Ah, but once upon a time it would have been." 

"Once upon a time you hardly gave me the time of day." He didn't mention that the same was true of most men in their circle. 

"The feeling seemed to be mutual." 

Lex hazarded a glance her way. Isis was staring at the xenon-lit road, the colors of her hair nearly lost to shades of gray, a smirk and lifted brow gracing her face. "You're beautiful at night," he said before he could stop himself. 

Her lips pulled into a grim line. "I'll give you the standard answer: 'Only at night. Now watch the road.'" 

"Don't you think you're beautiful?" Lex asked, not used to his compliments being thrown back at him. Especially his earnest ones. 

"Not at all," Isis answered easily. "Not without makeup and clothes to put me at my best advantage. Then again the moon is beautiful tonight and it's late. I'll count your outburst to sleepiness," she said with a smile. 

"Aren't we frank." 

"Sometimes. We're also tired. We have had a long two days and very little sleep for it. What's your business, LL?" 

Lex switched easily to business mode, explaining that his father had liked the changes she'd made to his last proposal and that Lex would like her to look at his latest. "If you don't mind of course." 

"Is this a favor or should I detail my fee?" Isis asked flippantly. 

"It can be negotiated." 

Isis' smile was lopsided. "No fee this time, Lex," she said gently. "Maybe if this becomes a regular occurrence, however . . ." She trailed off with a yawn. 

"We're almost there." 

"Splendid." Very soon they were ensconced in Lex's office, Isis behind the desk, in his chair glancing through various typed and electronic files. She had wondered if she'd fallen asleep during the last leg of the ride, but it had seemed like a moot point once she saw the mess Lex had been wading through. "I may change my mind," she had muttered, striding purposefully across the room, tossing her blanket on the leather couch by the door. Isis only looked up, or even consulted Lex, when she ran into some kind of password or firewall that she could not get through. 

That she didn't do it more often gave Lex pause as he sipped from a tumbler of Scotch. It was some time after three when she lifted her head from it all. "What do you think, Miss Ross? Can you work your magic on this one?" 

"This is a lot more complicated than the last proposal. There I just changed some of the language: made it sound more conciliatory to the other party while you still got almost everything you wanted." 

"And you can't do that here?" he asked with skepticism. 

"You had already done a lot of the work for me. This is . . .raw. Bleeding still." 

Lex sauntered to his own desk, feeling the sensuality curl around him like auxiliary limbs searching for their equal in her. Something about Isis in a nightshirt and jeans, barefoot -- she had kicked off the slippers two and a half hours ago -- behind his desk called that part of him to come out and play. Or watch. "Are you saying that you can't be of service to me?" he purred, draping himself in a chair reserved for supplicants. "Or shall I call you to polish me off?" 

Looking up at him with eyes that were dark and nearly dulled with sleep, Lex almost felt bad about his double-entendre. But then Isis' eyes burned with anger and fierce pride. "Oh I can do it." She yawned. The heat dimmed some. "But not tonight. This can't be handled instantly you know." 

"Tell my father that." 

"Patch me through." 

"You're serious aren't you." 

"As a heart-attack," she said through a yawn. 

Lex watched the fire that had flared so brightly in her eyes flicker out in slow stages till barely a glowing ember was left to keep them open. "I guess that's all we can do tonight," he conceded, rising slowly. Those auxiliary limbs had latched onto something other than desire. "I'll get someone to drive you back home." 

"Thank you, Lex." But he had already put down his tumbler and was out the door. Isis rose wearily from behind Lex's desk and wandered over to the couch where she had thrown her blanket, picking up her slippers on the way. She sat down to wait. 

* 

Early Sunday Morning, Oct. 13

For the second time in nearly as many days, Lex Luthor watched a woman he had not bedded sleeping in his house. 

He had come back to his office only to find it apparently empty. A light snore drew his gaze downward, however, and there he found Isis. Knees drawn up as far as they would go, blanket slowly slipping off the edge of the leather couch, Isis was curled into a corner of the couch fast asleep. Lex was tempted to wake her, then thought better of it. A quick trip outside let Enrique know he could go back to sleep. His services would not be needed to take Miss Ross home. The driver hardly seemed to mind. 

And now it was very early and Isis was very much still asleep. He'd returned to the study after dismissing Enrique with the sole intention of turning out the light. Somehow he'd forgotten to do that. Instead he found himself much as he was at that very moment: staring down at Isis. He almost couldn't reconcile the Ice Princess of his Metropolis University days to this Isis "Ice" Ross. It wasn't just the lack of glittering, cold, jewelry. She had learned something in the years since they had both left Metropolis, and they had never been good enough friends for him to know what it was. 

In the end Lex had drawn the abandoned blanket over her still form -- she promptly stretched out -- turned out the lights and headed for his own bed. 

It seemed as if she hadn't moved at all during the night, and maybe she ha-- 

"Lex. Stop staring at me so hard." 

Lex was startled out of his thoughts and had to gather his mask of calm around him. Isis was looking at him with eyes that were bright and clear. "We're awake." 

"Indeed. What time is it?" 

He checked his watch. "A little after five-thirty." 

"I have to go home." 

Lex reigned in the urge to say she was home. Those auxiliary limbs stretched with her as she rose slowly, languorously from the couch; every stretch catlike, every movement deliberate. "Feeling better?" 

"Immensely." 

"But no more talkative." 

Isis smiled the slow smile he remembered glimpsing the night before in the car. "Not really. I want to get back to my uncle's before the family rises for Sunday breakfast. If that can be managed of course." 

"Of course. And it shall. My driver will be ready to take you home in five minutes." 

"You won't be taking me home?" she said in a tone that Lex wasn't sure whether to take as sarcastic, playful or sincere. He decided on a combination of the first and third and answered, "No." 

Lex was sitting behind his desk when she turned and said, "You don't go to one of the churches Sundays, do you?" 

"Me and God have never quite been on speaking terms." 

"That could have something to do with your megalomania." 

"And you are? On, ahem, speaking terms with God." 

"Oh, I reconciled my megalomania to His long ago. You might think of doing the same someday, Lex." 

Somehow he doubted it. 

* 

"I can not believe we are having this conversation right now." 

"Don't you talk back to me." 

"I'm not-- It's not my intention to be talking back to you. Really it's not. The last thing I want to do is disrespect you in your own house, but this is my third night in a row with less than two hours of sleep. If you would please excuse my rude mouth because of my exhaustion it would be greatly appreciated," Isis said as calmly as she could. She wanted to scream. 

Home less than ten minutes, her uncle had rounded the corner from the livingroom and started in on her. Where had she been? Why was she coming in so late? Was that his sheet she was traipsing around Smallville in? Who had dropped her off? He would not have her gallivanting all over town like she owned it. She was not in Gotham anymore. Her grandparents couldn't get her out of this one. Isis had been too tired and surprised to protest. She had, however, muttered her disbelief. 

"Tiredness is no excuse, young lady. What kind of example do you think you're setting for your cousin?" 

"A good one!" Isis was outraged. "Why do you think I'm home by six a.m.?! I was up 'til three working. _Working_. I was _not_ gallivanting anywhere. And--" 

"Who were you working for?" 

Isis stared at him balefully. 

"If you were 'working' as you say, then tell me who for. Well?" 

Isis breathed out sharply through her nose. "Lex. Lex Luthor." 

"WHAT?!" 

"I know you have your problems with Luthor Senior, but Lex is my friend." Isis didn't bother to mention that connection was casual. "It was a favor. One that will probably help me help the school," she said, raising her voice over her uncle's. 

"So you're just going to help the man that ruined--" 

"Lex didn't ruin you! Lionel did! Currying favor with Luthor Junior will _not_ hurt this family. Not that it should matter to you. Lex is _my_ friend," she said fiercely, "and what I do for _my_ friends isn't your concern. Especially when it doesn't affect you." 

"It affects me, young lady, when it affects my son." 

"How does it affect Peter? Huh? Tell me that? Pete'll be asleep until nine. Twelve if we go to the late service. He never had to know that I was out last night, or even what time I came in. Look, I'm just really, really tired. I want to get another two hours sleep, wake up for some of Auntie's cooking, for your sausages, go to church, come home and sleep some more. Can I do that please? Can we just forget all about this?" 

"If your going to live here, Isis, you need to abide by some rules," her uncle said more calmly. 

"I understand that, but you also have to treat me like I'm going on twenty-two, not seventeen." 

"If you want to do what you want, Isis, and be grown, you can't stay here." 

"Uncle Mark, I didn't just come to be a pain. I really didn't. I came to see family I haven't seen in almost a decade. A decade, Uncle Mark. I love you. I really don't want to fight, or disrespect you, or anything. I just want to go to sleep," she pleaded. 

Mark studied his niece for a moment: her grey skin, her dark sunken eyes, the heavy slump of her shoulders. "Okay. But this isn't over Isis Lillian-Michelle Ross." 

Nodding slowly, fighting a wave of dizziness, Isis gently brushed past her uncle and went up stairs. She didn't notice the light under Pete's door. 


	9. Wednesday's child

Wednesday's child is full of homework 

* 

Wednesday, Oct. 16 

"Gotta run, Peter." 

Pete looked up from his _Wheaties_. "Huh? Run where?" 

"To school," Isis said, distracted, grabbing toast off a plate and pouring orange juice into a thermos. "Kwan's having some meeting or something, and there are things I need to get from the Records Room before class." 

"I guess I can suffer the bus just this once," he said with a grin. 

Isis stopped, digging into her pocket. "Actually, if Uncle Mark says yes, you can take the car. _If_ Uncle Mark says yes. I'm carpooling." There was a loud honking outside. "Which is here." Isis dropped the keys next to his cereal, just missing his toast. "If Unc says no, I guess we'll be riding the bus home together. Bye Pete."  
Pete said bye through a mouthful of toast. She rolled her eyes and sprinted out the house, bag sliding down her arm, toast dangling from her teeth, thermos in one hand and the garbage in the other. 

* 

Modern English 1 almost didn't notice their sub as they filed into the classroom, talking and laughing. 

_SLAP!_

The class jumped. 

"Hey guys," Isis said, standing up from behind the desk. "As you can see, I'm busy here," she indicated the paper strewn desk with a wide sweep of her hand, "so you're assignment's on the board. In related news, I was told by Principal Kwan that I have the power of Detention. Trust me, I am _so_ itching to try it out. I.E. I really don't want to have to say anything else to you guys except 'Bye' at the end of class." With a wink she sat down. 

Everyone turned their attention to the blackboard behind her. _Hey guys. The rules are the same as they were yesterday: play but do it quietly, talk but do it quietly, et cetera. Now I believe you all have work for me. If you have it, pass it up to the first person in the last row_. _Come on people, I know it's Wednesday, but your brains can't have jellified already, can they? Pass it to the guy/girl sitting closest to the window. And if your brains have jellied, please keep the jelly to yourselves. I' rather not have to send one of you to the nurse for some unknown brain-jelly disease. Heck, I don't want to _catch_ said unknown disease._

_Now for those of you who haven't done the assignment, and I know you're out there, here's your chance to make it up. Write about Bloody Kansas for me. Fiction, personal essay, poem(s), whatever but it'd better be at least two whole pages, handwritten. And no monster handwriting. As for what I mean by two pages, I want two fronts, no backs. (It makes it harder to read) This rule does not apply, obviously, to poetry, but consider this: I might read it in class, or have your teacher read it in class, when he returns. This is English after all. _

_Have fun kiddies. _

_PS If you have any questions, please approach me at the desk. Thx. And Chloe, you have to ask permission first_. 

Clark and Pete snickered when Clark got to that part of his reading. "What are you writing about, anyway?" he asked her. 

"Isis, of course." 

"Isis?" Pete asked incredulously. "Why?" 

"She's completely newsworthy! Gotham socialite comes to Smallville, Kansas to teach school? You don't see our other local billionaire giving lessons." 

"I'm sure Lex is busy," Clark said, coming to his friend's defense. 

"Because Isis isn't?" Pete asked. 

Chloe hit them both as Isis stared daggers at the trio. "Okay, so Isis doesn't have her own business to run," she went on, conceding Clark's point, "but she _is_ busy. Helping the school. Maybe she can get a grant for _The Torch_. Maybe she can snag me an internship." 

"Uh oh." 

Eyes narrowed she asked, "Uh oh, what, Clark?" 

"You got that light in your eyes." 

"What light in your-- my eyes?" 

Clark looked to Peter for help. "You know, that one when you've got a plan," Pete said warily. "Don't hit me." 

"I'm not gonna hit you!" she said, backhanding him across the chest. "Jeez. As if I were a violent person. Okay, fine, new topic," she said as the boys looked at her incredulously. They looked at her expectantly. "Well someone come up with something. I can't be the innovator all the time. Hasn't something interesting happened to Lana this week, Clark?" 

"You don't have to sound all bitter." 

"Bitter? Me bitter? Never. Hardly ever." She sighed. "Pete, you bring your cards?" 

"My Tarot cards?" 

"Pete!" 

"Kidding! I'm kidding. Stop! That tickles. Do you want Isis to give us both detention!" 

Chloe quickly stopped, citing not wanting to give Principal Kwan another excuse to terminate her editorship of _The Torch_. As if the whole thing had been choreographed, Isis' voice rang out: "Chloe, Pete, this is your first and last warning." 

Their heads shot up, but Isis was still busy typing away. Clark nudged Pete. "You're cousin's eerie." 

"Lately, yeah. I don't know what's different about her but--" 

"You mean Isis wasn't always like this?" Chloe butted in. 

"A little. I guess." Pete scratched his head. "It's been a long time." 

Chloe shrugged. "Maybe its not eerie. Maybe you just don't know your cousin that well." 

"There _was _that time she knew it was going to rain and it was clear blue day." 

Clark rolled his eyes. "Pete, Isis was the only one of the three of us not playing in the hayloft." He turned to Chloe. "She was up in a tree which was how she saw the clouds before we did. Then she nearly fell out." 

"Isis did fall out of the tree, Clark. Don't you remember?" 

"No." 

"How could you forget? You broke her fall." 

"Oh," Clark blushed. "Right." He rubbed his shoulder as if nursing the old injury. 

Chloe turned to Pete, "Sounds like Isis just, you know, matured." 

Pete said something back, but Clark wasn't tracking the conversation anymore. He _hadn't_ remembered Isis falling from the tree in the yard, just a few feet from the barn. Catching her on the other hand? Clark remembered catching Isis as she lost her grip, flailing and screaming, plummeting to Earth. Clark remembered wondering how she'd climbed so high. He remembered being afraid that, for the first time, his strength old fail him. Or he would miss. Then Isis might die. Then Pete would never come back to play with him. Clark's only two friends gone. And it would all be his fault. Then his parents would finally decide that he was more trouble than he was worth and send him back. 

"Hey, Space Cadet Clark? You in there?" Chloe waved her hands in Clark's face. "Pete was asking you a question." 

"What? Oh. Sorry Pete. What were you saying. I zoned out." 

"Really? I hadn't noticed." 

Clark punched Pete playfully on the shoulder. 

"I was asking you how old we were." 

"Seven," Clark said almost before Pete could finish. 

"You sound pretty sure," Chloe noted. 

Clark scratched his temple. "I remember we were going into second grade, is all. Or that we were in second grade when she went back to Gotham. . . Something like that." 

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You're so consistent Clark. Remind me to exclude you from the interview process." 

"One daydream session and I'm an unsuitable source? Who else is going to give you an unbiased opinion on Isis? We _are_ talking about the article your doing on Isis, right?" 

The class bell rang. 

The volume in the room quickly skyrocketed from a rolling buzz, to nearly deafening. Isis didn't bother dismissing her class. They were doing a perfectly good job of that on their own. And they weren't hers anyway. 

Clark hesitated just outside the door. "I'll catch up with you guys later," he said before dashing into the classroom before either Chloe or Pete could object. "Isis? Miss Ross?" 

"Clark?" She looked up from her work owlishly. "Did you forget something? And 'Isis,' please. We've known each other too long for you to start making me sound all teacher-like." 

"Uh, oh. Okay. And no. I've got everything. I, ooh, just wanted to talk to you. In private." 

Isis shook her head slowly, as if to say she didn't exactly understand his motives, but whatever. "Close the door then. Is this going to be long because--" 

"Oh. I'm interrupting your work. I'm sorry. I guess it can wait. . ." 

"I was going to say that if it's gonna be a bit, I could write you a Late Pass for your next class. You know, so you won't get detention." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. You say 'Oh' a lot, don't you. And blush. Quit it!" she exclaimed when he turned an even deeper shade of crimson. "You keep doing that and people are gonna put you in a two-dimensional pigeonhole. Now, what's on your mind, Clarky?" 

His eyebrows climbed into his bangs. " 'Clarky?'" 

Isis shrugged. "So it doesn't quite fit. Don't worry, I'll find a nickname for you. Now stop with the prevaricating and make with the stuff-telling." 

"Do you remember that time you fell out of the tree in my yard by the barn?" 

Isis stared at him blankly for a moment. Obviously that had not been the question she had been expecting. "Huh?" 

"You know, my barn, it has a tree in front of it. Sorta. You fell out of it once when you and Pete were over one day." 

"This is like years ago, right?" 

"Uh huh." 

"I think so. Jeez, I think I was thirteen then. How old were you guys: Seven? Eight?" 

"Seven," he assured her, rushing on. "What do you remember about it?" 

"About falling?" 

Clark nodded. 

"From your tree?" 

Nod. 

"Well, it was scary for one. I thought my stomach or my heart or some other vital internal organ was gonna come right out my mouth. And it hurt." Isis winced at the memory of pain. "A lot. You're a hard kid to fall on . . . Omigod! I fell on you." Her hands flew to her mouth, and for a moment Clark thought Isis might remember the truth. 

But then a laugh leaked out from her fingers. "I thought you were dead, Clark-Bar. I remember thinking that Pete was gonna kill me and then your parents and then my aunt and uncle. And then I remembered I had still had to go home and face my parents. Just as I was about to keel over myself, you opened those bonny-blues and asked if I was okay." Isis let out another laugh at her own expense. "I was so happy I think I almost kissed you. Pete showing up saved you from your first kiss being with an older woman, Clark. If I were you I might want to hurt him," she said, a seductive smile teasing her lips. 

She pulled a sheet of paper out the back of one of her notebooks and began scribbling. "So why did you want to know?" 

"Oh, uh, no reason. Pete brought it up during class and I had kinda forgotten that you'd fallen on me so I wanted to ask you . . ." 

"To see if he was pulling your leg? Cool. Here." She handed him the note paper. 

"What's this?" Clark asked, not really seeing it through his haze of relief. 

"Your Late Pass. The late bell rang about three minutes ago. They're probably wondering w--" 

Clark dashed out the room. 

"--where you are." 


	10. Dropping in on a fuzzy blue towel

Dropping in on a fuzzy blue towel 

* 

Wednesday Afternoon, Oct 16

"Is Mr.. Luthor in?" 

"Yes. Whom might I say is calling?" 

"Isis Ross. I'm expected." 

The butler raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. 

"Trust me. The worst that can happen is you get to kick me out," she said with a satisfied smile. 

Wordlessly, he let her pass. "Wait here." 

"No prob, buddy-boy." Isis turned to the mantle over the hall fireplace. A cut-crystal figurine caught her eye and-- 

"Don't touch." 

Isis swiveled around. "Me? Touch? Never." She kept her eyes innocent-wide even as he left her to her own, stand-still-don't-touch devices. 

The butler returned only to find she had wandered into the library. "Mr.. Luthor will be down shortly," he informed her. 

Smiling sunnily Isis thanked him. "What's your name by the way? I may have to come back and calling you 'The Butler' just seems kinda rude. Besides, you already know my name." 

"Matthews, Miss." 

"Delightful. Thank you, Matthews. It is all right if I wait here in the library, isn't it?" 

"Yes, Miss." 

"Wonderful. That will be all." 

He left her, closing the library doors behind him. 

* 

Lex grabbed at a nearby towel, not bothering to dry off. While he was sure Isis would wait, there was no promise of how long. She seemed to be more stable than he remembered. Less prone to wild mood-swings. But perhaps more dangerous for it. He had impulsively given over the workings of a very important business deal to her and couldn't let her get out of hand with it now. Or know just how important it all was. 

_Why not?_ he asked himself. 

Lex shrugged the question off. 

The bathrobe, warm and inky black, hanging behind the door, was out he decided. The towel was good enough and quicker besides. Matthews had announced Isis just as he was getting out of his fencing garb. "I'll see her," he'd said quickly. "Tell her something." 

His shower had been quick, mindless. Single-minded. What had he done giving he language, the body, of this proposal . . .to someone he'd hardly known when they _had been_ acquainted, and hadn't had a conversation with in four years, before last week. What had she done with his corpse? How had she prettied it up for him? How did she look. What _had_ she been wearing beneath her pajamas the other night and why didn't he know firsthand? 

What had she done with the proposal? 

Lex gave himself a quick glance in an unfogged corner of the mirror. He checked himself even though he never needed to. Still damp, he noted. The humidity-free air of his bedroom would dry him out. 

Skin pebbling gently in the cooler air, Lex's bare feet sank into the plush carpet. 

"Black Lex?" 

Lex Luthor's head shot up. Across the room Isis Ross sat nestled in one of his wing-chairs, turned to face the bathroom door. 

"You know," she uncurled her legs, "for some reason I'd always pictured you in a fuzzy _blue_ towel. Hmm." 

Anger flashed through Lex. How had she . . .? How _dare_ she . . .? "How did you get up here?" he asked, schooling his face. His body. 

"I walked." 

"How did you get past Matthews?" 

Isis smiled pleasantly as if they were already discussing business. "There's more than one way out of your library." 

"I take it you found it," Lex said, unfixing himself from before the bathroom door. With liquid grace he strolled to his bed as if he were not naked. 

"I've always been a curious kitty." 

"Curiosity killed the cat." 

"Kitty's got nine lives and this one's come back." Isis smiled. "We haven't played those lines in a long time." 

"I seem to remember it being more. . ." 

"Malicious?" 

Lex tilted his head. "Not exactly the word I was looking for, but good enough." Picking up his shirt, wine-red, from the bed where it was laid out with his clothes, he turned to Isis. "Excuse my nakedness," he said conversationally. "I wasn't expecting company." 

"Oh no. No need to apologize. And this is a level of Lex-nakedness that is not unfamiliar." 

"Funny, somehow I don't have an memories of similar . . .Isis-nakedness." 

"I think I always left the party before we could get that far." 

"Ah." Lex was torn: to kick out or not to kick out. It was a minor indecision. 

"Yes. Well speaking of 'Ah:' a whole new level of Lex-nakedness." 

He glanced at Isis. Her cheeks were flushed and the heat in her eyes burned across the room. Lex wondered whether it was with her famed ice or rare-seen fire. 

He told her: "Turn around." 

Casual smile never wavering, Isis rose and turned to face the small fire crackling behind her. "Self-conscious Lex?" 

Mind working furiously, he didn't answer but, rather, concentrated on pulling on his clothes enough to maintain some semblance of seriousness. "So why are you here Miss Ross?" 

" 'Miss Ross' is it? Lex, I'm hurt. Oh, I'm sorry. _Mr.. Luthor_. You asked me to come." 

"I don't seem to remember scheduling an appointment." 

A thick manilla envelope slid across the bed. Lex caught it before it fell off. 

Isis walked around the bed. "I thought you might want it sooner versus later," she said. 

Lex had the folder open and was quickly glancing through the paperwork. 

"You're not done dressing, Mr.. Luthor." 

Glancing up from the summary sheet to her and back, Lex wondered aloud what she was going to do about it. He felt Isis hover over him, thrumming with restrained energy that roiled and danced against his skin like insects; like fairy-fingers tapping on his skin. Lex dragged his eyes from the work to the woman. "What?" 

"Matthews told me not to touch," Isis said with an ironic smirk. 

"I'm telling you you can," he retorted, giving the paper a closer perusal. 

Isis' hands skimmed up Lex's body, closing buttons on the way. "Wearing a tie?" 

"No." 

She slid one crooked finger along the column of his throat. "Darn, I was hoping to choose one for you." Smiling too sweetly, she refused to meet his eyes when he tried to make contact. "Put down the papers and give me your wrist." 

Lex obliged, quickly pulling out another sheet of paper before dropping the rest onto the bed. 

Closed his hand around hers when she drew a finger across his palm. "Finished then?" 

"No." With a sharp tug, Isis pulled Lex flush against her body. 

Staring at her, he stood immobile as she tucked his shirt into his slacks: back first, working her way forward. "Done." 

"Your hands are still in my pants," Lex noted wryly. 

Isis slowly removed herself. She smoothed his clothes. "I didn't think you'd mind." 

"You know I don't . . . But I've already had one shower." 

One childish pout and a pair of fire-bright eyes: and Lex found himself responding to it. To her. 

Suddenly she was on the bed, pulling papers and mini-discs out of the manilla envelope. "So what do you think so far? Sound good? I have all the crap you gave me --- no I don't want it, but thanks --- and some alternate versions, which may or man not sound better. Depends on your mood." 

Lex took he proffered sheaf from her. He glanced through them. "Shall we discuss this downstairs? 

* 

"Your research is exhaustive 

Isis nodded over her coffee. "A lot of it is what you gave me." 

"Don't downplay your contribution," Lex admonished. 

"Hardly. But I don't need my ego stroked either. Well today I don't. So, which version's your pleasure?" Isis yawned. 

"Tired?" 

"Yes. Stop changing the subject. Which one?" 

Lex skimmed the three documents before him again. "The second." 

Her raised eyebrows asked why. 

"My father will like it." 

"I thought you were in charge of the fertilizer plant. That LL Senior was hands-off." 

" 'LL Senior' doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me," Lex said sardonically. 

"Must not be very far. So when do you put this to your Board of Directors?" 

"First thing this Monday morning." 

"Have--" 

"I want you to be there." Lex silently congratulated himself: Isis was stunned numb, staring at him over her cup. 

"Um," she set down the cup hastily, sloshing its contents, "rewind and play that back for me slow, 'cause I thought you just said you want me to go with you to your board meeting." 

"I did." 

"Might I ask why?" 

Lex was asking himself the same question. Hadn't he just been trying to devise a way to get Isis _out_ of his business affairs? And yet here he was inviting her further in. 

"Is your father going to be there?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

"Not unless Dad decides to fly in from Fiji. So will you come with me?" Lex leaned back in his executive chair. 

"You still haven't told me why you want me to." 

"Who better to explain the finer points of this deal than the writer herself?" 

"Hey, no one's supposed to know that," she protested jocularly. "I'm your ghostwriter. Just another nameless, faceless, pay-checkless peons ensuring that markets for LuthorCorp . . .fertilizer will remain so. To the exclusion of all others. Wait," Isis tapped her chin thoughtfully, "wrong proposal. That we have-- Excuse me, that _you_ have exclusive rights to certain chemicals found only in LuthorCorp, uh, . . .manure, and the rights to all subsequent research. 

"You know," she continued, "it won't be much of a coup d'etat coming from me, L--, er Lex. Anyway, they're your Board." 

Lex steepled his fingers. "I thought you might like the practice. You _are_ the heiress to the Gotham Michaels' fortune. Answer something for me, Isis: Rumor has it that your inheritance stipulates you must change your name from Ross to your mother's maiden name of Michaels. Is it true?" 

"You're starting to sound like a reporter, Lex." 

"My general manager's daughter is a reporter for the school paper. Perhaps you've heard of her." 

Isis let out a frustrated snort. "Stop playing games, will you? That's my job. I'll go with you to Metropolis--" 

"Excellent." 

"On two conditions. One, that you let me use your computer tonight for the grant research I'm doing for the high school." 

"You're doing research for the school?" 

"Didn't I just say that? And stop trying to get me off topic. Second condition: that Principal Kwan doesn't need me to sub that day." 

Lex leaned forward on his desk. "Doesn't sound like a fair deal to me. I may satisfy condition one but still lose." 

"And if you don't satisfy condition one, you can't win." 

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Ross." 

"You ask an unusual favor, Mr. Luthor." 

They stared at each other for a long sixty seconds. Lex spoke first: "Looks like I'm stuck." 

"If you want me to go with, yes. And don't try to finagle Kwan into giving me the day off. He didn't want to hire me in he first place." 

"But he likes me," Lex said with mock hurt. 

Isis reached across the desk and swatted his arm. "There's the bratty bastard I sorta knew and kinda enjoyed in college. Now let me at your DSL." 

Lex rose from his seat. "It's all yours." A distracted "Mmm hmm," was he received as she slipped into his still warm chair. 

Matthews was waiting outside. "Will Miss Ross be staying for dinner?" 

"Probably, although I believe she'll prefer to take it in the study. Have a tray brought up around 7:30." 

"Very good, sir. And shall I make preparation for her staying the night as well?" 

Lex smirked. "Not unless you're going to bring a pillow and blankets with dinner. I very much doubt that we'll be seeing Miss Ross out and about this evening." He turned to go to his upstairs office. "On second thought, Matthews, do have bed-stuffs brought with dinner. Miss Ross seems to have a . . .penchant for falling asleep on my furniture." 

* 

Pre-Dawn Thursday, Oct. 17

Five. Five grants that were just _perfect_ for Smallville High. 

Wired by all her success, Isis dared glance at the computer clock. She'd been avoiding it, know that if she knew how late it was she'd be inexplicably too tired to go on. Isis rubbed her eyes and checked the time again. Obviously the caffeine must have been wearing off, because she could swear the monitor was saying it was 3:02 AM. Wait, make that 3:03. Her eyes searched the room for the Grandfather clock she knew lurked in one of the corners. It read three-ish. As did her watch. 

"Crap," she muttered, reaching for the cold toast with butter she had asked a maid for hours ago. 

"Lex is probably asleep," she said, gathering her avalanche of printouts and handwritten notes. "Heck, all of Smallville's probably asleep. Hmm, no traffic. Bonus," she said through a yawn. But that was the only sign of exhaustion she gave. A restless energy coursed through her. She made a face at the bed-stuffs Matthews had left for her. 

Isis needed to do, to move, to _be_. Sleep? Bah. What she needed was a drive. Preferably one that would take he straight to her attic-room, but if a short detour was made on the way . . . 

She drove with the windows open to help stay awake. She sped down country roads and took curves at 80 85 90 miles an hour. The Benz 430 wasn't her little Cabriolet and it certainly wasn't one of Lex's Italian sports cars, or even her black-cherry Mustang sitting in a Gotham garage, but it was handling quite nicely. She was wondering if the sedan could handle that controlled spinout trick a friend had demonstrated once when she decided to stop. 

Either someone had forgotten to harvest this field or, for some agricultural reason beyond her ken, it wasn't ready yet. The wheatbarleysomething swayed in the chilly October night air. Isis was suddenly aware of just how cold it was. She pressed her bare hands to her cheeks: they pulsed, hot and alive and wind-burnt. She couldn't feel her nose. 

Isis was pulling off her boots and slipping into beat-up, comfortable sneakers -- the most important part of her emergency car kit -- before she gave her motives terrible thought. She'd brought the narrow flashlight - "Torch" she said softly to herself - from the glove compartment and was off as soon as the trunk slammed shut. Turned around and remote-locked the car. 

The wheatbarleywhatever whispered around her. If Pete had been with her, Isis might have reminded him that, whatever it was, it was all just all grass. And Pete would probably let her know just how well he knew that fact. He'd tell her exactly what they were walking through. He wasn't in 4H for nothing. 

But Isis was alone. With the tall grass whispering around her. Thinking no thoughts. Living in the whisper of the tall grass parting like water before her. Hearing heavy on the breathing. Heavy on the crickets. Heavy on high grass white noise sea-calming whispers. And the foot-crunch of dead things. 

Time to turn around, was Isis' first thought after so many no-thoughts. 

Crunching back toward the car, Isis didn't hear the night rise up around her, look at her, and _reach_. 

* 

a/n: the title, and much of the inpiration for this section, came from another fanfic on ff.net. i can't remember the title or the author, i do know that it was chlex and that there was a fuzzy blue towel--and that lex didn't wear it for long. and that it was an interesting story i never got to finish. in honor of you....whomever you are. 


	11. Paranoia, paranoia

Paranoia, paranoia 

* 

Pre-Dawn Thursday, Oct. 17

"Mom! Dad!" 

"Clark, what's wrong?" Martha called as she and Jonathan ran down the stairs. "Clark," she said confused, "who are you hold-- Isis?" 

Isis, who had been hiding her face in Clark's shoulder, turned and looked at the Kents. They weren't even in robes, and didn't everyone but her wear robes? She turned back quickly. "God Clark, put me down already," she hissed, but he didn't think she sounded like she meant it. "Hi Mr.. And Mrs. Kent. I promise I don't have any scissors on me." But she said through Clark's shoulder. Not that the Kents were paying her any mind specifically. 

Jonathan motioned his son into the kitchen. He and Isis were both wet. Had it rained during the night? "What happened?" 

Clark gently deposited her in a chair. "I was in the barn and I heard screaming in the field. So I went to. . ." 

_You feel . . . You feel . . ._

_You'd don't know what you feel. When Martha Kent later asks you what happened, one of the things you'll say is "_It felt like all this aimless malevolence was just suddenly directed at_ me_." 

_But that's not how it starts. If it had been instant you would be in your aunt and uncle's kitchen right now with a cup of hot tea telling yourself what an idiot you are. Freaked out by a wheat field? you'll ask yourself incredulously. _

_But you're in the Kents' kitchen. Waiting for Clark to bring you a cup of tea. _

_Because it happened in degrees. The wind suddenly too-cold against your cheek. Itchy, shivery, goosebumps under your thick clothes._

_A touch of uneasiness. _

_You clench and unclench your hand without knowing why. Jump when something crunches beneath your feet._

_Shriek when a barn owl swoops too low. _

_You laugh at yourself. You laugh at your crazy, paranoid self. A shaky weak laugh that does nothing to slow your frantic heart and everything to make you feel better. Although you haven't stopped walking_. 

_In fact you've quickened your pace. And made a turn somewhere. The moon is no longer on your right, but shining directly in your eyes. _

_The laugh is now a strangled cry caught in your throat. Choking. And about the time you realized your heart_ never_ slowed -- though you wish it would stop -- you realize that now you are in a flat out run._

_From the night. _

_Because it knows your name. _

For a moment it seemed she wouldn't let go, but then Isis collected herself and released her frantic grip. "I went to check on it. I ran right into her." 

"I ran into Clark, actually," Isis corrected wearily. "I wasn't exactly paying attention. Just a little too terrified." 

Jonathan came around the table. "Did you get a good look at it?" He asked as Isis got through her story. 

"No. Not at all. But it must have been my mind playing tricks on me, you know, because it didn't move like anything real. It . . .it oozed -- flowed through the whatever. Real things don't move like that, right?" Isis turned wide brown eyes on Martha and Jonathan. "Nothing _moves_ like that, right?" 

"No," Martha reassured her, "real things don't move like that." 

Isis let out an unsteady breath. "Good. I'm just trippin'." She hid her face in her hands and took deep, slow breaths. But every time she thought of that thing chasing her, surrounding her; her heart raced and she had to fight the urge to get up and run. Just run. Take the Kents with her and run. 

Wisely Clark called her name before touching her shoulder and offering her the hot mug of tea. "I don't know what you like in it . . ." 

"That's okay," she said reaching for it. "Um, if you could just get me some honey and lemon. If you have them that is. God, what time is it? You should all go to bed. You should all be in bed. Really. I didn't mean to intrude." 

Martha, Jonathan and Clark protested. She wasn't intruding. They were fine. They were glad she could help. If Isis had been feeling better she might have found their hospitality quaint, or funny, or even touching in a small town kind of way. She might have wished her grandparents were the same. In the end she was just happy when Clark brought back enough honey to be the envy of a dozen hives, as the smell of lemon filled the air. 

"My mom used to drink tea with honey and lemon. For her throat," she said quietly, staring intently at the dark liquid. 

"Where's your mom now?" Martha murmured, sensing something had changed, even if she didn't know why or how. 

"She died." Pour the honey. "Years ago." 

"You must miss her." 

Isis nodded. Pour the lemon. Slow. So slow. Don't spi-- 

Martha went to her. Isis wrapped her arms around her and sobbed into her stomach. One long sob, full of bitterness, anger and fear, but it was enough to make the Kent men turn away, embarrassed for her. Martha pulled bits of chaff out of her hair. 

For her part, Isis wasn't exactly sure how it happened either. It was just an observation of one of the few things she remembered about her mother: she liked tea with honey and lemon. It was just one of those things she remembered. But something about that night, about being in a warm kitchen with people who loved each other and were willing to share their love with her, if only for a little while; something about that night, about that _It knows your Name_ . . . that just caught hold of something within her and made the Ice Princess vulnerable. 

She pulled away from Martha reluctantly, her cheeks a furious red. "I am so incredibly sorry. That doesn't usually happen. My mother died a very long time ago." 

"It's okay for it to still hurt, sweetie." 

"Not for me," she said, shocking the Kents with her absolute surety. "Thank you so much for the tea," she took three long, hot gulps, "but I really should let you guys sleep for whatever's left of the nigh--" 

"No," Jonathan said, regaining his composure. "You are going to spend the night here, young lady. Clark, go air out the guest room. And get one of your T-shirts for Isis," he called after his son. 

"Yes Dad!" 

"No . . . Really, Mister, Mrs. Kent. If you don't mind lending me your son to find my car I can be out of your hai--" 

"No ifs, ands or buts about it, Isis. Now upstairs with you. The linens are at the end of the hall." 

She looked to Martha for help. There was none. "Well at least don't make Clark go through the trouble of _airing out_ the guest room. I mean, vacuuming at 3:23?" It fell on deaf ears. "You know, despite my recent breakdown, I really am as crazy as my hair suggests. I just got off the college scene: I'm used to sleeping bags and couches. I really am. Don't let the Benz fool you." 

"Upstairs, Isis." 

"Upstairs, Isis," Martha repeated. 

"Yes sir. Ma'am." She was halfway to the stairs when she turned around and gave them each a fierce, hasty hug. "Thank you," she said, backing away. "Really." 


	12. Everybody's coming to get me

Everybody's coming to get me 

* 

Later Thursday Morning, Oct. 17

Going commando, while interesting, is not comfortable. At least not during the Kansan fall. In the frozen morning. 

Most of the clothes were Isis' own: the jeans, the sneakers, the inexplicably torn dusky-red vest. And her heavy wool hoody. Sleeves also torn. 

The socks, T-shirt, and flannel shirt were Clark's. Martha had kindly gone through her son's things and presented them to Isis before she went to shower. "They probably won't fit, but it's better than putting on your old things." 

"You didn't have to." 

"It was no problem. It's not like Clark can wear them anymore. It's a good thing I didn't get rid of them," Martha said with a smile. 

Isis tried to return it with as sunny a smile as she could muster. If Martha's face was any indication, it wasn't going over well. 

"I'll just go shower now." 

But even with the heat all the way up in the car, the windows quite securely closed and a cup of hot coffee, black, sloshing around her belly, Isis felt a breeze where there most certainly shouldn't have been one. Psychosomatic that. And her rear seam was digging into her butt. 

"Banner day, Izzy," she muttered, using her mother's nickname for herself. 

"Abso-friggin-lutely Banner." 

* 

"Why can't you just obey the rules?!" Pete yelled. 

"It wasn't my fault!" Isis yelled back. 

"Oh, so that _wasn't_ you who walked in the house at 5 a.m. this morning? And what about Saturday night? Or should I say Sunday morning?" 

"How did you---? Ugh! We are _not_ having this conversation in the car! I had enough for it out of Uncle Mark and Aunt Janice this morning, thank you." She spared a quick look Pete's way. 

He was still pissed. 

"Don't start with me, Peter." 

"You were at Lex Luthor's house." 

"Not in the car Pete." 

"You don't deny it." 

"Well since you've obviously been listening in on my arguments with your parents you already know that's what I told them." 

"But why?!" he demanded. 

"Because!" she cried. 

"But he's a Luthor!" Pete nearly bellowed. 

Isis pulled the car off the road in a motion that sent them both reeling. "I'm gonna tell you like I told Aunt Janice and Uncle Mark," she said with her signature cool, belying the fiery anger in her eyes: "Lex is something like a friend." 

"But--" 

"_And_ he was doing me a favor by letting me use his computer. I got a little carried away--" 

"That doesn't explain why you stayed the night. Again." 

"I didn't! I ended up at the Kents'--" 

"Oh yeah. What was it you told Mom? Right, that you decided to take a walk in one of their fields but so freaked yourself out that you woke everyone up and the Kents took pity on you and your idiot city-slicker ways. Then they made you stay the night and wouldn't let you drive home. 

"Admit it, Isis, you were with Lex," Pete snarled. 

They stared at each other down angrily for a long moment. Isis licked her lips. "You think I'm sleeping with him, don't you," she said with cold assurance. 

"Aren't you?" But it was more affirmation than question. 

Isis pulled out onto the street, again none-too-gently. "You ask Clark, Peter. You ask him what happened." She tapped her fingers lightly on the steering wheel as if she _weren't_ angry enough to burn concrete. "You ask him Pete, then you sure as hell better have a good apology for me." 

* 

"Miss Ross, may I see you in the hall for a moment?" 

Isis was covering a science class -- Whitney's in fact -- when Principal Kwan called her out. They had an assignment from their teacher and didn't worry much about their getting out of hand. 

"Yes, sir? How can I help you? You did get my proposed grant letters didn't you? I left them wi-" 

"Yes, yes. The secretary gave them to me after my parent-meeting. I understand you were late this morning." 

"Indeed. I had some car trouble. I even had to pull over for a mome-" 

"You didn't call in." 

Isis got very wide-eyed innocent. "No, sir. I didn't. I didn't have a first period class to cover so--" 

"But Peter Ross was late, was he not?" 

"Yes, he was--" 

"And we might have had an unexpected call out. I need to know that you can be reliable, Miss Ross." 

"I a--" 

"Especially if you are going to be Mr.. Ross' ride. I thought when I hired you I was hiring a responsible person. I haven't misjudged, have I?" 

"No, sir." 

"Now then, if I've made myself perfectly clear--" 

"You have." 

Principal Kwan glared at her. "Good-day, Miss Ross." 

Isis made pleasant not-sounds at Principal Kwan's back. Taking a deep breath she went back to class. 

* 

Her bags were outside her attic-room door. Shaking her head, Isis adjusted her shoulder bag, picked up her things and headed back downstairs. 

* 

"Hey, you okay? Can I get you something?" 

Isis looked up from her coffee into Clark's concerned face. Shaking her head she lifted her cup for him to see. "Ever had one of those days where it just seems like you're on everybody's hit list?" 

Clark sat down. "Yeah, a few." 

"I swear, running into you was the highlight of my day. You know, I never did thank you for saving my life." 

Clark graced her with a half-smile. "I hardly saved your life. And even if I had you wouldn't owe me any-- Hey, look, there's Pete." Clark waved to his friend. 

Pete started to make his way over. He stopped short when he caught sight of Isis. 

"Hey! Pete!" Clark called, confused, when his friend turned away. "What was that about?" 

Isis sighed heavily. "That's my doing. You should probably go over there. We aren't exactly talking." 

"Huh? Why?" 

"Pete thinks I'm sleeping with Lex." 

"What?! What gave him that--- Is that why he asked if you were at my house last night?" 

Isis nodded. 

Clark stood. "Don't worry. I'll straighten this all out." 

"No," she caught his jacket sleeve. "No, Clark. It's okay. You just go over there and make with the friendlies." 

"But-" 

"I'll be fine. I have to get going anyway." She stood, dropping a tip on the table. "I'll see you tomorrow at school, kay?" 

Clark watched her leave. 


	13. You're so smart

Spoilers for "Dichotic" and "Skinwalkers". I'm working on an honest to goodness Spoiler/timeline disclaimer. Really. 

*

You're so smart, why don't _you_ come up with a title?

*

Next Week, Thursday, Oct. 24

Pete slammed shut his locker. And jumped. "Jeez Chloe! Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?"

"Maybe a few heart palpitations. So you're still not talking to Isis, huh?" Chloe asked as they maneuvered around their classmates.

"That's not really any of your business."

"Why not? She's my friend, too. Sorta."

"This is about family, Chloe. I don't want you making us the front page of the school paper." 

Chloe stopped short. Pete regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. She gaped at him for a moment. "Not only was that the meanest, most painful thing you've ever said to me, Pete, but it was one of the nastiest too. I can't believe you would even suggest . . ." She stalked away, plunging into the high-school crowd.

"Chloe! Wait! _Chloe!_"

"Pete," Clark said, touching his friend's shoulder, "why are you embarrassing yourself in front of everyone?"

With a weak motion toward the throng in front of them, Pete explained his superior gaff. "She's never gonna talk to me again."

"I know I wouldn't," Clark joked. When it obviously fell flat he added, "You know, you're really being kinda dramatic about this, Pete."

"Clark, man, you just don't understand--"

"Pete, just _apologize_ to her. Chloe can't stay mad at you forever. A long time, but not forever," Clark reasoned.

With a shake of his head, Pete followed Chloe's wake to their class. He sat beside her despite the dangerous glare she was throwing his way. "Look, Chloe, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to offend you, it's just this thing with Isis . . ."

Chloe frowned. "That's a really thin excuse, Pete . . .but thanks for the apology. Don't think I'm not still mad at you, though."

"Never."

"So why can't you apologize to Isis?"

"_Chloe_ . . ."

"All right, I won't push, but don't you think I'd be a lot less mad if you two would make up?"

"Not that I don't appreciate the concern, Chloe, but why are you so involved?"

"Excuse me?" Chloe asked incredulously. "Mr. I-Just-Enraged-One-of-my-Best-Friend? Ever since you two started fighting you've been shoving your foot down your mouth with both hands and Isis? Isis has become wildly unsociable."

"Really?"

"Yes really! Haven't you noticed the distinct lack of social visits coming your way? Personally I would have thought all the attention Whitney and co. are lavishing on you would have been a clue, but that's just me."

Sheepishly Pete asked, "That bad?"

Chloe snorted.

"Miss Sullivan, Mr. Ross," they looked up at their teacher, "if you don't mind we'd like to start the class. But we'll wait for you."

"Uh, you can go ahead."

"Why thank you Miss Sullivan. Whatever would we do without you?" she deadpanned.

"No idea."

*

"Hey Lana, taking a break?"

"Chloe! Hi. No, I'm actually taking the afternoon off."

Taking the seat across from Lana, Chloe mention that "It must be fun." 

"You know, actually it does. A little boring, surprisingly." Lana took a sip of water from a tall glass. "Hey, I thought Mrs. Kerrick gave you detention."

"Nah, just threatened really really impressively. Water?"

Lana picked up her glass and swirled it around. "I don't know, but something about working in a coffee shop just makes drinking the stuff kinda . . .I dunno, ick. Sometimes I go home and Nell is brewing a fresh pot to have with her after-dinner whatever and the smell alone makes me want to gag."

Chloe shook her head. "I can't ever imagine being disgusted by coffee."

"I think if I stay here long enough I'm gonna go completely noseblind. No. I'll end up this old spinster with fifty cats who can only smell coffee."

Snorting, Chloe asked about Whitney.

"Can you really see us growing old together?"

"Yes!"

The girls laughed. "I don't know. Maybe. But, sheesh Chloe, we're only in high school. I think it's a little early to start outfitting you pink taffeta."

"You wouldn't dare, Lana."

"Mmm, I don't know Chloe, I am nearly famous for my love of pink and soft fuzzies."

"Taffeta is neither soft nor fuzzy."

" . . .Okay, no taffeta."

Chloe narrowed her eyes, "What about the pink? Lana? _Lana?_ Say you wouldn't make me wear pink."

Lana singsonged a noncommittal answer.

"Lana!" Chloe protested with a laugh. "Okay, other than making me self-conscious of the hopefully not-too-near future, this is quickly becoming a total waste of time."

"And isn't it fun?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but I actually came here with a purpose. Have you seen Isis? I'm trying to get her and Pete talking."

"Is it working?"

"No-ot really. I don't think Isis feels like she has anything to apologize fo--

"And she doesn't!" Lana interjected.

"I know that and you know that . . .bu-ut if she did then maybe Pete would-- And why _am_ I so involved?"

"Boredom?"

"Lana, I think you're right. Nothing weird has happened for almost two weeks. My Wall's feeling neglected."

"What about Ian who fissioned himself and nearly got us both killed."

"Well--"

"Or the weird wolf sitings down at the LuthorCorp site when there hasn't been a wolf in Kansas for over 50 years? Or how that girl Clark was into--"

"Okay, let's not even mention her," Chloe made a face. "Although, for a second there I could have sworn you were a little jealous."

Lana's eyebrows rose skeptically. "Really? I don't know, Chloe, but I think now you're searching."

"Hey I'm only telling you what I observed with my keen reporter senses," Chloe said with dramatically narrowed eyes as she mimed pulling down a hat.

"Are you a reporter or a gumshoe?"

"A little bit of both. Now if only I could figure out how to get our favorite two Rosses talking."

"Speaking of Rosses . . ." Lana looked pointedly over Chloe's shoulder, who turned.

"Hi guys," Pete said.

"Hi Pete." "Heya Pete."

"So what're you girls talking about?"

"You of course," Chloe said. She scooted over so Pete could sit. "Me and Lana were just wondering how you got on the Harvest Ball committee when our lovely Miss Lang here was rejected," she lied glibly.

"Sorry Lana," Pete said sympathetically, "but sometimes you got it and sometimes you don't."

With a shrug of her shoulders she replied, "I guess this time I just don't have . . .It. What is It?"

Both girls looked pointedly at Pete.

"What?"

"Well you said you have It," Chloe pressed, "so we want to know what It is."

"It's not something you can explain."

"Even when you have It?"

"Yeah."

"Seems kind of fickle to me," Lana grumped before taking a sip of her water. What about Dylan Strauss? Does he have it?"

Pete turned in his seat. "Dylan? Not yet, but he's getting there."

"Hey, didn't he, like, miss all of last year to work on some sleep disorder at a clinic somewhere?" Chloe asked.

"England, I think," Lana answered. "I have this vague memory of his Mom coming into Nell's shop a couple days before they left. I think they were staying with family."

"Must have been really expensive."

"That's probably why they stayed the whole year."

"See," Pete interjected, "a year away from Smallville will definitely give you some It."

"What about Isis?" Chloe asked.

Isis had just walked into _The Talon_ and was at the counter ordering. She didn't see them and looked harried.

"Does Isis have It?"

Pete watched his cousin, tapping a brown-booted toe on the footrest. Everything about her was restless, from the way she clenched and unclenched the hand at her side, to her rigidly straight back, to the folded bills she was tapping against the counter. They watched her pay for her beverage and rush out the door.

"Well, Pete? What do you think?" Lana asked.

"I, uh, have stuff to do for the Harvest Ball, guys. I just stopped in to say hi. See you guys later." Pete slid out the booth and left.


	14. Changing of the cameramen

Merry Christmas all.....

*

The changing of the cameramen 

* 

Thursday . . .again 

"Pete, just _apologize_ to her. Chloe can't stay mad at you forever," Clark reasoned. 

Pete didn't answer but shook his head and went off to class. Clark hoped that the head shake meant that Pete realized how crazy he was being and was going to apologize sometime before the end of the day. But he was afraid he was witnessing a fit of classic Pete Stubbornness. Which Isis seemed to have in droves. 

Walking to class, Clark decided it must be a universal Ross trait and not just found in the Y-chromosome like Isis said. 

He slid into his chair moments before the Late Bell rang, took out his books and forgot his friends' problems. Hemingway was taking up too much of his brain-space. Only those green rocks could hurt more than trying to fit all that into his head at the same time. 

* 

Martha met Jonathan as he stepped out of the sweet-corn field. It was the last field they would harvest for the year -- very soon -- and the one Isis had mistakenly identified as wheatbarleysomething two nights ago. They hadn't corrected her then. She had been so obviously shaken, despite the bravado. It had been better after everyone had had a few hours of sleep, but Martha had stopped Jonathan from bringing it up again over the breakfast table. Which Isis hadn't eaten, breakfast, just thanking them all, apologizing again for imposing, and making long careful sweeps of their land as Clark helped her find her car. 

"Find anything?" Martha asked, handing Jonathan a thermos of coffee. 

He took a long drought before answering: "Only that the last of the sweet-corn is ready." 

"Do you think that maybe it was all in her head?" 

"If this were anyplace other than Smallville, I'd say yes in a heartbeat . . ." 

"But it isn't," Martha finished with a sigh. "Well we can't worry about that now. Let's go inside. Lunch is ready." 

* 

"Hey, Ross! Pay attention." 

Pete snapped to. The Harvest Ball Committee was having yet another meeting. "Sorry guys. I guess I'm in need of some serious caffeine." 

There was a murmur of agreement from the group. Pete offered to act as gofer. 

With a wad of cash in one pocket and a frighteningly detailed list in the other, Pete walked downtown to _The Talon_. He thought he saw Isis' car speed down Main Street at one point, but he wouldn't let himself think about it too long -- because then he might have to take Chloe's advice to heart. 

Who was sitting with her back turned to Pete, with Lana. The girls laughed at something. He watched them, watched Chloe, through the window until Lana noticed him. Pete pulled his swagger together, his Chloe's-just-a-good-friend cool around him and walked in. 

"So what're you girls talking about?" he asked. 

"You, of course," Chloe answered. Pete knew she was lying. He always knew when she was lying, which meant they were probably talking about Clark. 

" . . .What is It?" Lana asked. 

Pete refocused on the conversation. "What?" 

Chloe did a bad impression of his blank look. "Well you said you have It, so we want to know what It is." 

Were they really having this conversation? Pete asked himself even as he gave them a classically evasive Pete-answer. 

"Seems kind of fickle to me," Lana complained, swirling the water in her glass before taking a sip. She asked him about Dylan Strauss. "Does he have It?" 

They got into a medium long discussion about their fellow classmate. Until Chloe brought up Isis. Pete had seen his cousin walk past them and had hoped that Chloe wouldn't notice. No such luck. 

"Does Isis have It?" Chloe asked. 

He watched his cousin and tried to summon up the same smoldering hot anger he could tap, at nearly any moment, for the Luthors. But it was like trying to be mad at his brothers. It was _just_ like trying to be mad at his brothers: the anger was intense, consuming fuel so fast it burned itself out. But he wanted to be mad -- just as much as he wanted to know that she was okay now that their- _his_, parents had kicked her out. 

Isis left. 

". . .you think?" Lana's voice plucked him out of his thoughts. 

"I, uh, have stuff to do for the Harvest Ball, guys. I just stopped in to say hi. See you guys later," Pete said as he slid out the booth. 

He remembered the coffee a block past _The Beanery_. 

* 

He watched her step off the curb, balancing on, what he considered, ridiculously high heels. Although she handled them well. He watched her check the street. Up and down. He watched her wait, then cross, hurrying to her car. 

He watched her remote unlock it. 

Watched her open the door and slide inside. 

Watched her settle the coffee. Start the car Check the side-mirrors Check the rearview mirror 

He saw her in the rearview mirror 

Saw her through the rearview mirror 

through iced-chocolate eyes. 

* 

Lex pulled his sunglasses from his jacket pocket and expertly replaced them over his eyes as he climbed out his car. 

He watched Isis drive off before he slammed the door shut and headed in the direction of _The Talon_. 


	15. Working title

for Black Pearl....apparently i'm writing this for you and me at this point. Lol. 

*

Working Title 

*

Sunday Afternoon, Oct. 27 

"Mr. Luthor, an Isis Ross is on Line Three." 

Lex looked up from his laptop. "Put her through." 

"Yes, sir." 

"And Mrs. Caldhaume. . ." 

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?" 

"It's Sunday. Go home. I'll see you tomorrow morning." 

She thanked him as flatly as she had told him he'd had a call. But that was Mrs. Caldhaume. The last time she made a great show of emotion was when Lex had asked her to come in on a weekend while she was retching-sick with the flu. Admittedly Lex hadn't known she was sick and Mrs. Caldhaume had been high on cold medicine. 

Lex now made a point of asking how she was everyday. 

"Ice. What's the verdict?" 

"LL. It's a no-go. Sorry." Her voice was distant, tinny, omnipresent, over the speakerphone. 

Lex considered switching her from surround-sound to his desk phone speaker. He left it. "Kwan won't set you free?" he asked. 

He heard her sigh and it was like a soft breeze. He left her on surround-sound. "Something like that," she answered. 

"How about dinner?" he asked. "Think we can manage that?" 

"I'm not sure I trust that tone of voice, Lex. Especially when I can't see your." 

Lex paused in his spreadsheet reading. "Oh?" 

"Yes, 'oh.' This wouldn't happen to be a date, would it?" 

"Why Miss Ross, I'm wounded." 

She laughed. "I'm sure you are, Lex." 

"So tomorrow night? Dinner? I'll tell you how your proposal went over." 

Isis looked around herself. The room she was renting was tidy, if small -- even partially furnished. But it said something about her emotional state that she felt the need to sit on the floor and was seriously contemplating having Raspberry, her burgundy and black toy panda, express-mailed to Smallville. 

"You're taking far too long to think about this, Ice." 

"Sure. Why not? A girl's gotta eat sometime, right?" 

"So I've heard. How 'bout you meet me at the office and we'll figure it out from there?" 

"Sounds like a plan, Lex." 

"Tomorrow then." 

"Lex! Wait . . .How casual or not is this 'business' dinner." 

He smirked at her air-quotes. 

"I mean, will I have to fancy myself first or can I just be the jeans n'sneakers chica and truck-it direct from the H.S." 

"Run that by me again. In English." 

Isis passed a hand over her face. She knew she was tired when either (a) she stopped making sense or (2) she only made sense to herself. "Should I dress up or will jeans and sneakers be okay?" 

"I didn't think you owned a pair of sneakers, Ice." 

"You'd be surprised what you don't know," she muttered, her patience going the way of her energy. South. 

"Whatever you wear will be perfect, I'm sure," Lex answered drily. 

Surprisingly a smile cracked Isis' face. "'Til tomorrow Lex." 

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Parting is such sweet sorrow." 

Laughing a final goodbye, Isis hung up. But then she looked around the room that was, hopefully, her temporary home and her laughter took on a decidedly darker mien. 

*

Monday Evening, Oct. 28 

"Aren't you afraid someone's going to link us together?" Isis asked. They were well into dinner: past small-talk and just teetering on the edge of leaving the business aspect of their meal for the social. 

_There'd been a car waiting for her outside when school let out. She recognized Lex's driver. "Enrique, right?" He'd nodded. "Lex sent you to pick me up?"_

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_"Spiffy. And call me Isis," she said as she tossed her bag in the opened back door. Her laptop bag went in after and she followed. "Isis," she reminded Enrique, just before he closed the door. "Isis." _

_"Yes, ma'am."_

Lex wiped his mouth with his dinner napkin. "Link us how?" 

_He had been sitting in the outer office, waiting for her, when Isis stepped out the elevator. With unabashed admiration, she had watched Lex gracefully unfold himself from the chair. "Been waiting long?" she'd asked, her eyes roaming freely along his body. _

_"Not at all." He'd walked her back to the elevator bank. "You look lovely by the way." _

Isis rested an elbow on the table, her cheek pressed into her fist. "As an item. A couple. Me, your latest gold-digging tart, and you my long-awaited beau. Depending on whose hometown paper you read, Metropolis or Gotham, of course." 

"Of course." 

_She'd laughed at him in the elevator. Looking from her chalk streaked blue-jeans and brown dress-boots to Lex's sincerely bland face, Isis had smiled. "You know I'd forgotten how charming you can be. How dangerous of me," she'd added, turning to the opening elevator doors._

Lex picked up his wine glass. "Well, it can't be worse than the last time my love life was front-page news. And at least I can justifiably deny all this." Nodding the glass in her direction, Lex took a sip. And remembered a different dinner with a different woman over the same glass of wine. 

Isis frowned delicately, pushing a stray green braid out of her eyes. "I heard about that." 

"Who didn't?" 

"Her name was Desire or some--" 

"Des'ree," Lex corrected her quickly. He took another sip of wine. "Her name was Des'ree Atkins . . .Luthor." 

Isis sat back. "I'm sorry, Lex. I didn't mean to pry." 

_"Dangerous how?" Lex had asked, amused._

_Isis had rolled her eyes as they stepped out the elevator. "Oh, you know . . ." _

_"No," he put a possessive hand on her elbows, "I don't."_

_She swiveled in his minor embrace, walking backward as she said, "Yes. You do." And then she smiled, righted herself and slid her fingers into his. "So what _do_ you have in mind for din?" _

It was Lex's turn to sit forward in his chair. He picked up his fork. "Sounds like you know something about prying." At her blank look he added, "About being burned by love?" 

Storm clouds passed over her eyes and Lex imagined that he could see condensation flow from her nostrils as her blood became ice. He reached across the table and stole a shrimp from her _penné_. It was rude and distasteful, he knew, but it had the desired effect. 

Funny, Lex rarely found himself on the other side of his own smirk. 

"Burned, hmm . . ." 

Lex sensed rather than felt her legs stretch out until a fractional motion on his part would have been a caress. Her right hand came up out of her crossed arms to caress her collarbone until she worked her hand to her right shoulder. Clasped it. Looked out the window. "I guess you could say I was burned," she answered finally. 

This was the Ice Princess he had known at school, Lex decided. He had always suspected the cool haughty demeanor was a front she'd worn around him and his friends; had suspected that what he'd thought were wild personality fits were closer to the "true" Isis. If he could ever figure out who that was. Lex thought . . . Lex shook his head, deciding he thought too much. 

"Well then, it sounds like we could both use some buzz," he said as he reached for her right hand, gently caressing her cheek. 

"Lex?" 

His fingers curled around hers until he could stroke them over the first knuckle. "People are going to talk. You said so yourself." Slowly he brought Isis' hand to his lips. "Let's give them something to talk about." 

"'How about love?'" she asked skeptically, eyes focused intently on their hands. 

"Love be damned." Lex's lips whispered across Isis' skin, his breath hot and moist, before he pressed a kiss onto her fingers. Someone somewhere was taking pictures, the knew, but that didn't stop Lex from lingering too long or Isis from staring too intently. Tomorrow they would be someone's front page news and they didn't care. 

Lex saw the new Isis, or rather the old Isis he had never known, peek out from iced chocolate eyes. She smiled and it was all Seduction. Like the way her teeth tugged at her lower lip or how she had managed to be the one holding _his_ hand, caressing _his_ fingers with _her_ thumb: Oh, Lex had freed the Ice Princess all right. 

He raised an eyebrow when she slid a stockinged foot up his trouser leg. 

With a small, deceptively innocent, laugh she answered his unasked question: "They're low boots. I can toe them on and off." 

"That . . .certainly has its uses." 

"Mmm, indeed." 

"Weren't we supposed to be talking business, Miss Ross?" Lex said without much sincerity. He was enjoying himself. And they both knew it. 

"I thought that was all done, Mr. Luthor." 

"There have been rumors of your life being saved by a young Mr. Kent?" 

Isis smiled fondly. "Clark's a great kid. I really must figure out a way to repay him. Too bad he's sixteen and my favorite cousin's best friend." 

Lex made a noncommittal grunt. "Speaking of Mr. Ross, I hear from our favorite reporter that you two still aren't talking." 

Isis dropped her foot and Lex's hand. "Yes, and me being the main item of importance in this weeks _Torch_ really isn't helping. It's all your fault you know." 

"Mine?" 

"Pete thinks I'm sleeping with you. Or did. Oh jeez! And probably will again if some rag really does print pics of us together." Isis sighed heavily. 

"You Rosses. So much drama." 

Isis swatted Lex playfully. "Hey, let's get out of here. I have the sudden need for an ice cream cone. And a favor to ask." 

Twenty minutes later they were in the limo and halfway through their cones. "What favor, Isis?" 

"Hmm? Oh. Be my date for the Harvest Ball. I've been roped into chaperoning and--" 

Lex gave a soft chuckle. "And why would I want to do that?" he asked, taking a long lick of an ice-cream drip racing toward his fingers. 

"Excuse me?" Isis rounded on him. "You owe me, Mister." 

"No, I believe _you_ owe _me_." 

"Nuh uh, buddy. At worst we're probably dead-even." 

"What about the rescue from Metropolis?" he asked. 

"I practically wrote your proposal," she countered. 

"I've kept your less-than-legal drug use secret too," he reminded her. 

"And I've kept some of the more incriminating parts of your past to myself as well, Lex. So you see: dead-even." Isis took a triumphant bite out of her cone. 

"All right then," Lex conceded, "then what do I get out of it?" 

With a tsk Isis said, "I thought it would have been obvious. Good PR, Lex. Good PR. C'mon, LL, it's one evening out of your life. Why are you fighting this so hard?" 

"Actually I'm not. I have every intention of going." Lex turned to her. "I just wanted to see how far you'd go to convince me. How good your negotiating skills are." 

Isis' mouth gaped. "Why you . . .!" She reached over and ate the last of Lex's cone from his hand. His eyebrows climbed when she made a show of finishing hers off, then licking her already pristine fingertips clean. 

She spared him a faux-haughty glance. "Serves you right." There was a devilish twinkle in her eyes that made Lex wonder if she'd lick his hands clean, but he didn't bring it up. Instead their talk turned rather mundane until it petered out altogether into, surprisingly, companionable silence. 

Lex noticed how she stroked her arm rest with her thumb unconsciously as their trip neared its end. He was about to mention it when he felt the car slow. "There can't be traffic this time of night. Not in Smallville at least," he amended after nightmare memories of LA traffic-jams surfaced. 

"No traffic," Isis assured him, "just my stop. Me and Enrique worked it out on the way to your office." 

Although no one could see into the private car Lex had a very good view out. "This isn't the Ross'." 

"Why Holmes, you've done it again," Isis said with an affected English accent. 

With a slight frown Lex admitted that he didn't understand. 

"Which only means you're the only person in town who doesn't know I've 'moved' out of my aunt and uncle's house." Isis slid out the car and looked up at the boarding house. 

Lex followed. "You moved out?" 

"Well that's what my people are telling the press," she said in full Hollywood gossip-queen mode. But then she slumped against the car, as if it were all too much and she was tired of pretending. "Actually they kicked me out. Bad influence on the cuz and all that rot. Disrespectful. Blah blah blah." 

"Would you go back if you could?" 

Isis turned to face Lex. She had been staring up at what she knew was her room. "No. I really do keep erratic hours and . . .Well the last time they saw me I wasn't quite thirteen and I don't think an adult Isis -- the idea of an adult Isis -- has really sunk in yet. And I'm just grown enough to not want to deal with my family's hang-ups, you know? 

"All too well." 

Isis cracked a smile. A quick one. "Thanks for dinner and conversation Lex. I'll call you about the whole Har-" 

"How about staying with me?" 

"-vest Ball thing. Huh?" 

"Stay with me at the Mansion. There's more than enough room for you. And it's rent free." 

Isis took a step back, mildly shell-shocked. "Feeling generous, Lex?" 

"Yes. Now agree before I change my mind." 

"And demanding too." Isis laughed. "Maybe I will. Does that mean I owe you now?" 

Lex thought about it. "If you had asked, probably, but I'm offering. C'mon Isis, let me surprise you by being a decent human being." 

"Hey, sure. Why not." 

They decided she'd move in after school, before the ball, giving Isis time to re-pack and the staff to prepare a room. "You mean I won't be sharing with the master of the house?" Isis quipped. 

"No," Lex said with finality as he climbed back in the car. Watching her cross the street to the boarding house before Enrique sped away, Lex added a "Not yet," for his ears only. 

Author's Note: so I took someone's advice and italicized the past scenes. i wasn't going to do it initially, but now that i have i'm glad i did. thx for the advice peeps.


	16. Shake your whammy fanny

Author's Note/Suggestion: this is long. this is *very* long. this is 20 pages on my computer. do a Save As joint and download this chapter to your computer. read it slowly. this chapter took a lot out of me and i don't know when the next one will be done, so savor this one. come, wave your hands over the pot and take a deep yummy breath..... 

Shake your whammy fanny

(or How would you like that? In $100s or $1000s?)

*

Thursday, Oct. 31, Halloween

It was obvious his father was . . .unhappy the moment Clark stepped foot in the kitchen. "Hey Mom." He kissed her cheek.

"Morning Clark. Chores done?"

"Yup. I'm starved."

"Sweetheart, you're always starved."

"Hey, Dad. What's wrong?" Clark ventured after his father's very welcoming grunt.

Jonathan frowned at his morning paper, wondering whether or not to tell his son. But if what they were saying was true Clark would know one way or another. If he didn't know already.

Jonathan folded back the paper and handed it to Clark. "This is."

"What?"

"Left. Below the fold."

Martha poured her son another glass of orange juice and sat down to breakfast as he scanned the paper. She and Jonathan had already talked about it while their son did his morning chores.

"Is that Isis with Lex?"

His father nodded. "Read the caption.

" 'Billionaire playboy Lex Luthor spotted leaving swank downtown restaurant with new leading lady.' So?" Clark looked up at his dad. "I don't understand what's so bad about that. They went to Metropolis University together. They were probably just, you know, catching up," Clark reasoned.

"Read the article."

Clark scanned through the gossip column, half wondering why his father had been reading _it_ of all things, for Lex's name in bold print. Isis didn't even register to the Metropolitan _Daily Planet_. " 'Annulment seems to be treating **Lex Luthor** well. He was seen making goo goo eyes with a Miss Isis Ross, daughter of a Gotham's resident tree hugger **Malcolm Ross**, at a very long dinner followed by ice cream cones. Sources say the chauffeured car was Smallville-directed when they left the soft-scoop parlor. There's even a hot rumor of an absolutely lish hand-kiss from LL to IR -- who's red/gold/russet dye-job nearly overshadowed _all_ -- during the meal. Nice to see you bouncing back, Lex, but maybe our next date can be a little less, shall we say, bright?'" Clark looked at his father. "Dad. This doesn't mean anything. I'm sure whoever wrote this is blowing everything out of proportion."

"Will Pete see it that way?"

Clark had forgotten all about Pete.

"And it looks like Isis has too." Jonathan stood, empty plate in hand. "I hope for both their sakes he doesn't see this," he said, sincerely.

*

"Call for you, miss."

Isis more firmly tied her braids back, away from her a face, before taking her cell phone. "Thank you, Matthews. Could you just drag that into the foyer. It's heavy. And my coat too. I'm just a bit hot."

"Yes, Miss."

Isis put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Have you seen _The_ _Planet_'s gossip column?! Isis, you and Lex are practically top story. I mean you even--"

"Afternoon to you too, Chloe."

"That won't work with me."

Isis stopped her pacing. "What won't work with you?"

"Trying to put me off."

"Put you off? Me?"

"And admit it, you were avoiding me at school today, weren't you?" Chloe accused.

Isis sat down in the foyer. "I wasn't avoiding you . . .I was avoiding Pete. Who happened to be with you. He hasn't seen the papers, has he?"

"Me and Clark and Lana have been giving him the run-around all day. You owe us."

"I know."

"Big time."

"Chloe, I know."

There was a pause on the line. "So . . ." Chloe trailed off.

"'So' what?"

"Ugh! So what happened? I want to know everything. In detail."

Isis laughed. "I'm actually a little busy, Clo, so I can either give you a teaser and tell you the rest when I see you tonight, or you could practice that patience thing and wait for the whole shebang."

"I'm not exactly known for my patience, Ice."

"Okay, but you've got to promise to keep this secret."

"I'm already keeping secrets from Pe--"

"From _everyone_, Chloe. For right now this one is between you and me." Isis took a deep breath. "If you think you can handle it."

" . . .You promise me the full story. The second I see you at the Ball."

"The nanosecond."

"And its an exclusive."

"I'm counting on it," Isis breathed.

"But you're going to tell everyone everything eventually, right? 'Cause I honestly don't know how long I can sit on this, depending on how good it is--"

"Yes Chloe! Yes. Do you wanna know or don't you?"

"Yeah."

"I just moved in with Lex Luthor. Actually I'm in the process of moving right now."

"You what?!"

*

"Chloe would you stop bouncing around," Pete pleaded. "You're giving me and Clark here nausea."

Chloe frowned. "You're exaggerating." But she made an effort to be still.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

Her kohl-lined eyes were wide and innocent. "Can't a girl be anxious to get to the ball so she can show off her two Prince Charmings?"

Even Clark tore his eyes from the road to look at her.

"All right, so admittedly I'm not usually that girl, but I've . . .had a change of heart since last year's prom. These things aren't a _complete_ waste."

"Just a minor one?" Clark asked.

"Something like that," Chloe murmured as Clark parked.

The party was just getting off the ground when the entered. "Let's take a picture," Pete suggested. 

After a few silly poses, and Pete forking over the cash for the pictures, they wandered over to the refreshment table. Chloe took in the Harvest Ball Committee's efforts. "You guys did good, Pete." Clark added a "Yeah, great job, Pete," of his own.

"Thanks guys. Actually it--"

"Oh no," Chloe cried, wincing.

"What?"

"Dylan Strauss is coming this way."

"The same Dylan Strauss you, me and Lana were talking about?" Pete asked which was quickly followed by Clark's "You guys were talking about Dylan?"

"Yeah," Chloe answered them tersely. "Long story. Anyway, after you left us-- er, after _Pete_ left us, Dylan came over and asked me out."

"I guess you said no."

"Sometimes, Clark, your powers of observation are downright uncanny," Chloe said more harshly than she otherwise would have. 

Clark understood.

"Ever since then I've been seeing him everywhere," she continued. "I mean, it's bad enough-- Uh oh guys, we gotta move. Clark you stand there and Pete, you over here. Okay . . . Walk!" With the boys acting as cover, Chloe, Pete and Clark wove "inconspicuously" through the thickening crowd to the bleachers across the gym.

"Like I was saying, it's bad enough he's in our English class, but he's been popping up _everywhere_. I even dreamt about him last night. I swear the only place I probably haven't seen him is in the girl's bathroom and that's probably 'cause he's not allowed."

"Hey, it could be worse," Clark said.

"How?"

Pete answered: "His name could be Tina and he could be a lesbian, then even the bathroom wouldn't be safe."

"Pete! Ew!" But she was laughing as she playfully shoved him. He shoved her back, knocking her into Clark who pushed her back into Pete.

They went on like that for a while, laughing as only best friends doing something stupid can, until Chloe stood suddenly. The boys fell into each other. Chloe called and apology over her shoulder as she ran lightly down the bleachers. "I just spotted my next exclusive!"

"Which do you think she loves more," Pete asked Clark, "us or a good news story?"

"Right now? The story, hands down."

Chloe didn't know why she hadn't spotted Isis earlier: the woman was only wearing a shimmering pumpkin-peach dress that matched her braids a little too perfectly. Well that answered the hair-color change question. Good. Now Chloe had just cause to skip the small talk and get right to the heart of the story. Just the way she liked it.

And what before her wandering eyes should appear? Not just Isis, but Isis holding Lex's arm no less. That was one way of coming out the proverbial closet.

"Hey guys."

The couple turned to her. "Miss Sullivan." "Hey, Clo. What's the dish?"

"You are. Excuse me Lex, but I have to borrow your, uh, date?" Chloe looked skeptically from Isis to Lex.

"For tonight he his," Isis answered with an easy smile. "I'll be back soon. Just keep on ...chaperoning." Linking arms with Chloe, the girls walked off.

Lex watched them go -- Isis in her full-skirted, two-piece ensemble and Chloe lovely in an embroidered, red on red Manderin-style dress. He scanned the crowd for Clark.

"Okay," Chloe turned on Isis as soon as they were out of every possible earshot, "give it to me. Everything. The article, the moving, tonight's 'date' -- which you didn't warn me about. The whole kit'n'kaboodle."

Isis laughed. "Shouldn't you have a notebook?"

"It wouldn't fit in my purse."

Isis eyed the tiny thing. "I see. All right, here goes. It's not like you can print any of this," she threw in.

"Yet."

"Yet," Isis agreed. Then she told Chloe everything. Or mostly everything -- she left out the third degree burns. But she did tell Chloe that she had been kicked out and not left the Ross house under her own steam, despite popular belief.

"And Lex offered you a wing all to yourself, just like that?"

"Well it's not a wing," Isis chuckled. "It's just a really nice room. That's about the size of the entire floor my little room at the boarding house is on. Besides, I think Lex meant what he said, he wants to show me he can be a nice person despite our history. He wants to make me a believer," she added cheekily.

"And what history would that be?" Chloe pressed.

"Uh uh, you said you wanted to know everything about the picture, moving in and tonight's 'date'," she said ticking off the items on her fingers. "You never said anything about Lex's past, Chloe."

"That's all right. Next time I'll just be less specific. I can cover more topics that way."

"We should probably go back in, Clo. And maybe you can explain why this is a Harvest Ball and not a Costume/Halloween Party?"

Chloe made a face. "Something about the meaning of Halloween changing, becoming darker, and wanting things to be as normal as possible this year," Chloe said as they entered the gym. "I wasn't really paying attention when Principal Kwan announced it at the opening assembly," she cried over the music. The gym had filled considerably while they were gone. "As if anything in Smallville could be normal!"

"What?!"

"She said," Lex murmured into Isis' ear, "'As if anything could be normal in Smallville.' Shall I have this dance?"

Isis turned in Lex's light embrace, "Sir, I believe you shall." Catching her full skirt in hand, Isis and Lex joined the writhing teenage bodies.

Chloe rolled her eyes and looked for her friends.

"Wanna dance?" someone asked behind her.

She turned. "Dylan! I, um, I . . . It's just that, you know --"

"Sorry Dylan," Pete said, appearing quite suddenly, "but Chloe already promised me this one, right Chloe?"

She nodded mutely.

"Maybe next one, guy," he said with a friendly pat on Dylan's arm before swinging Chloe onto the dance floor.

She pressed her forehead to Pete's chest. "Oh my God, you are my new hero, Pete. I was totally speechless. I don't know what I was gonna do."

"I saw. And Chloe Sullivan speechless? Heaven forbid," he teased.

She pinched his arm.

"You know, Dylan's not such a bad guy."

"You're right. I guess," Chloe conceded reluctantly. "But he is kinda creepy . . .with those strange green eyes. I don't think I've ever seen anyone with eyes like that before."

"They don't seem all that special to me, but I can see your point. Dylan has his weird moments."

"Very weird," Chloe agreed. "So what'd you do with Clark?"

Pete peered over her shoulder. "Left him mooning over Lana. What else?"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Hey, what did you expect? Don't get me wrong, I love Clark like he was my fourth brother, but the boy's blind as a bat."

Chloe laughed imagining Clark in Coke-bottle glasses. "We probably wouldn't even recognize him."

"It wouldn't be that weird. But . . .for real . . ." They were working their way to the edge of the dance floor -- the better to hear each other. "I mean, Chloe, just because Clark can't see what's standing right in front of him doesn't mean no on else can."

"As if any of the guys in this school see me anyway," Chloe retorted with a snort. "_Not_ including Dylan of course. It only counts when you like them back."

"Yeah," Pete sighed, "I guess so."

Elsewhere Lex and Isis were refining the fine art of rhythmic gyrating. It was possible, Isis was learning, to forget what one was supposed to be doing when one had Lex Luthor's full attention. They were nearly pulled over twice themselves by Principal Kwan.

"I'm gonna hear it in the mor- Oomph! Hey!" Isis cried as she was pushed into Lex.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Not sure. I should probably follow, though. You stay. Have fun," she said before tearing off after her assailant.

Lex was close behind. He still hadn't found Clark and this was bound to be more interesting than hunting down his 16 year old friend.

"Just leave me alone!" a young man leaning hostily against the lockers snarled.

"Mr. Strauss . . ."

So Isis' assailant had a name.

" . . .you're obviously upset. If there's something I can do--"

"Like you would even understand. Look at you. You came here with _him_," he accused, pointing over her shoulder.

Isis turned, finally noticing Lex. "Him? Lex is here as a favor 'cause he's my friend. I'm essentially dateless."

"Essentially, but not really," Dylan spat back, pushing himself off the lockers.

Lex edged closer to Isis, sensing the implied threat. She didn't seem to notice, however, as she snorted and started a soft tapping. "So you nearly ran me over because you didn't get a date? Mr. Strauss, if you haven't noticed you're here already. Ask some pretty girl to dance and enjoy--"

"I already asked Chloe Sullivan and she turned me down. Apparently she's here with Pete," Dylan added darkly.

"Oh. _Oh_. Hmm. Here with Pete? My Pete?" she demanded, surprised and wishing that her aunt and uncle had come up with less generic names for their children. There were only a dozen or more "Petes" at Smallville High.

"Yeah. They completely brushed me off. I can't believe they made me look so stupid in front of everyone!" he snarled.

Lex finally voiced an opinion: "You know, the lady does have the right to refuse. It's all in the way--"

"I knew you would take her side," Dylan cried. He pushed past Lex and Isis, and ran out the school.

"-- you approach the situation," Lex finished wryly. "Apparently I need to take my own advice," he said as he wondered whose side Dylan was talking about: Chloe's or Isis'? Who happened to be snaking her hand into the crook of his elbow. With a shake of her head she muttered, "Kids these days. No common sense."

"You know, I'd heard that had died," he answered, leading her back to the gym.

"Really? Now _that_ would explain a lot. How was the funeral?"

"Pretty low turnout from what I gather."

*

Whitney stood patiently by as Lana exchanged farewells with her friends . . .even that strange Chloe Sullivan, and Clark Kent who was always mooning over her. But if Whitney didn't know anything else -- like how to get out of a claustrophobic town like Smallville -- he knew who Lana's heart belonged to. Him.

She was even saying goodbye to Ross' sister! Whitney unstuck his hands from his pockets and made strides to get to his girl. 

"Well if I had known that the chaperones had to wait till all the kiddies were gone I wouldn't have signed up for the job," Isis was saying when he reached Lana's side. "Hey Whitney."

"Yeah . . .hey. Uh, Lana, we should really get going."

"I'll meet you at your truck, Whitney," she answered with a kiss to his cheek. "Just give me a second, 'kay?"

There wasn't any real way to protest that, even if Whitney was sure her 'second' was going to turn into another half-hour. But hey, wasn't that Jordan standing next to Kyle Lantice? Whitney double-timed it to his friends.

"So I thought I saw you and Pete actually have a conversation?"

Isis nodded tentatively. "Nothing deep or really long. I mean, it was bound to happen eventually, right? Anyway, it was kinda ruined when Lex came back with our drinks." Lana sighed appreciatively. "It could have been worse." Isis reminded her. "The boys were civil."

"But words _were_ spoken."

"Whole sentences."

"I'll have to tell Chloe, if she doesn't know already. She's made you guys her pet project."

Isis' brows furrowed. "I thought weirdness and meteor rocks were her pet projects."

"Usually, but due to the weirdness draught, her words not mine," Lana added when Isis chuckled, "she's had to take up a new cause."

"So long as we don't end up on the Wall."

"Just keep your eyes from glowing and I think you'll be fine." They shared a parting hug and a few gethomesafes, then Lana went to track down Whitney before he got any deeper into his football talk. As if she needed to hear about _football_ all the way home.

Isis too went in search of her ride. And found him leaning against the hood of his new silver Porsche talking to Clark. "Hey guys."

They turned to her, smiling . . .or smirking.

"Now what are two beautiful men doing out all alone in a parking lot, hmm?"

Clark flushed but Lex merely pushed off the car and strolled to her side. "Waiting for a beautiful woman to woo," he said as he leant over her hand.

"Mmm, twice in almost as many nights, Lex?" Isis murmured. "Someone might think you have plans."

"And if I do?"

"As long as they include accompanying this beautiful woman to _La Reve_ for their Halloween party, I think we'll be all right." She winked at Clark over his shoulder.

"You guys are going out?"

Lex turned to his young friend. "Yes. We're planning to pain the town . . ." He glanced at Isis. "Pumpkin."

"And navy," she added with a laugh. "If your parents wouldn't kill me I'd invite you all to come. But they would and you're underage . . . It gets messy." Isis opened the passenger side door. "Although I did see you dance with lots of pretty girls."

"Yeah . . .well . . ." Clark tugged at his collar.

"Didn't you know, Ice," Lex said on the other side of the car, "my friend Clark, here, is quite the lady's man."

"Aah. Well that would explain several dances with one Miss Sullivan then, wouldn't it?" she asked.

"Chloe and I are just friends. We tried the whole relationship thing last spring and it didn't work out," Clark corrected politely.

Isis paused midway into the car. "Oh. Really?"

"Yeah. We decided we were better as friend friends than as boyfriend/girlfriend."

"Hmm. Both of you? Decided, I mean."

"Well Chloe said so," Clark protested weakly.

"Ah, she _said_ so, but I wonder if she _meant_ so. Oh well. Another time. Toodles Clark!" She blew him an air-kiss before sliding into the car.

They left Clark gaping at them like a fish, wondering how he was going to be able to drive Chloe and Pete home without wondering if maybe . . ._maybe_ . . .

"You do remember how to do this, right?!" she teased, shouting over the music, through her peaches and cream mask.

"Do you?!" he roared back. Even his midnight mask smirked.

She threw her head back and laughed as he pulled her close, fitting his legs between hers, finding the rhythm of the grind: a side to side swinging motion that rocked them into other bodies, other masked couples in their own swing groove. Someone joined them. Made them a threesome. A foursome. A line, until they were no one and everyone.

They had become movement, rhythm. Sweat, need, desire. The had become lust. Sex. Joy _sweat_ love _sweat_ ecstasy _sweat_ movementrhthmdance

*

Friday, Nov. 1

Matthews handed Lex his coat as he went out. That his young employer looked like death on ice wasn't Matthews' particular concern. Mr. Luthor had his coat, his coffee -- black -- and seemed relatively pleased despite an obvious lack of sleep, and that was really all that concerned Matthews.

"Has Miss Ross gone for the day?" Lex asked as Matthews helped him into his coat.

"Yes, sir. She left very early this morning to retrieve the last of her belongings."

"If I haven't said so already, Miss Ross is an honored guest. Except for the obvious exceptions she is to have the run of the house."

"Yes, sir. I will inform the staff."

"See that you do. Good day, Matthews," Lex said through a yawn. Distracted. Already thinking business. Hoping that there was a fresh pot in the employee break room and that Gabe didn't comment too much on Lex's bleary eyes.

There was a package waiting for him in Gabe's office after the 2:30 tour. Gabe scratched his head. "Well it's got your name on it, so it must be for you. Someone from the mailroom must have delivered it."

Lex was reluctant to take it and sat down instead. "This must seem like a foolish question, but are packages inspected?"

"Your right," Gabe said, sitting himself, "it is foolish. After 9/11 and the anthrax scares security in the mailroom was tightened considerably. I sent you a memo."

"Gabe, you send a lot of memos."

The big blond smiled. "I do. Anyway . . .this thing's been sniffed and X-rayed so while it might be mysterious looking . . ." Gabe snatched a yellow post-it note that was attached to the box, glancing at it before handing it to Lex. " . . .it is not a mystery."

"A letter and audio-video equipment? Is there a return address?" Lex asked.

Gabe examined the box. "Nope. Nothing I can-- Hey sweetheart!"

Lex turned to see Chloe standing in the doorway.

"School let out early?"

"_Dad_, it's almost four. Hey Le- um, Mr. Luthor. Didn't know you were here. Am I interrupting a meeting or something?"

Only when he saw them together did it really strike Lex that Chloe was Gabe's daughter. Gabe Sullivan had one, he knew. That _Chloe_ Sullivan was she, he also knew. But when they weren't together he could easily forget that they belonged to each other. If only he could forget his own family as easily.

"No sweetie. Me and Lex were just finishing up, I think." He looked inquisitively at Lex.

"Yes. We were. Thank you Gabe." He stood. Coat and package in hand he turned back to his employee. Chloe was sitting in his vacated seat. "Think about what we talked about."

"You think about it, Lex. You have as much at stake as we do. Maybe more."

Lex paused in the doorway. "I will." He left.

Chloe rose suddenly. "Excuse me, Dad. Message to relay," she called over her shoulder as she ran after Lex. "Hey! Have you seen Isis?"

"Hmm?"

"You know, Isis: kinda curvy brown girl whose middle name is Style, has a penchant for color, particularly hair, boots . . .last seen wearing peach--"

"I get it, Miss Sullivan. What about Ice?"

Chloe sighed, exasperated. "Have you seen her?"

"Not since last night. And what gives you the idea that I might know where she is?" he asked evasively.

"No need to be so trickytricky. I happen to know--" They edged around a dead-end corner as traffic in the hall picked up. Chloe dropped her voice an octave. "I happen to know she's staying at your place."

Lex quirked an eyebrow. "And how did we become privy to that information?"

"I have my sources," Chloe answered with a twinkle in her eye. "But seriously, have you seen her? I don't think she was at school, although Kwan didn't blow a gasket so I can't be sure. Anyway, I think Pete's ready to admit he's been an almost complete and utter jerk. So if you see her tell her to call or something 'cause, much as I love them, I could actually use a new hobby."

"What, you don't like fixing people's lives?"

Chloe just rolled her eyes as she turned back to her father's office.

Three and half hours later Lex was in the Ross' driveway trying to figure out exactly what to say. _Hey, just thought I'd let you know you're niece/cousin has been kidnapped. Enjoy your _

dinner!

Mmm . . .no.

He'd actually forgotten about Isis by the time he pulled into his garage. There was a hot shower and a small mound of paperwork waiting for him. It wasn't until Matthews brought his dinner in on a tray that it came back to him.

"I'll have the cook set something aside for Miss Ross," Matthews had said. "Will there be--"

Lex looked up from his _chicken rollatina_. "Isis hasn't come back then?"

"No, sir."

"Has Miss Ross been here at all during the day?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

Lex was instantly on his feet, headed for the forgotten package lying on the couch. "Find out for certain," he said as he cut into the brown box with his dinner knife.

And now here he was, standing at the Ross' front door, about to make himself their enemy in fact and not just theory.

"What are you doing here?"

_Wishing desperately that I weren't_. 

"Pete!" a female voice called from inside, "I didn't just hear you . . ." An attractive older Black woman, from whom Pete must have gotten his wide smile, appeared behind him. "Ah. I see. I'm sorry, you aren't welcome here."

"I know," Lex said, quickly inserting his foot into the closing door, "but this concerns Isis." He handed her the letter from the opened box.

"Mark!" She cried, running down the hall.

"What did you give my mom?" Pete demanded.

"The ransom note for Isis' release."

The door swung open. "You're not joking, are you?" Pete asked as Lex passed.

Lex turned to him. "Kidnapping isn't funny. Ever."

"Lex," a familiar voice called, "what are you doing here?" Standing over a coffee table covered in open books, pencils and loose-leaf, Clark looked at his fiend confused. Lex sighed. Things were supposed to simple in Smallville, but he seemed to make people's lives more complicated just by being near them.

Lex told Clark what was happening.

"Do we know who took her? Where they're keeping her?"

"Hold on a moment, Clark. There is no 'we.' The kidnappers want _my_ money. I think."

"You think?"

"If one of the Ross men has hooked up the camera and receiver the kidnappers sent, we should know any second." Lex took in the well-appointed, if messy, living room. "Studying?"

"Yeah--"

"Lex!"

"That's my cue," Lex said turning on his heel.

Clark stepped over his schoolwork and followed Lex into the den. One of the Rosses had, indeed, set up a webcam and some kind of transmission device. Mr. Ross was standing by the camera, leaning over the back of the television to do so. "Are you sure this isn't some kind of hoax," he asked as if accusing Lex of being the hoaxer.

"If it is then it is a very elaborate, very unfunny one. Either way they will pay, I promise," Lex said as he took a seat in front of the camera. "She was last seen by my butler, early this morning, on the way to pick up some things from the room she's renting. I stopped by on the way here. Her car's across the street and her handbag's on the passenger seat."

Lex gave everone a hard, appraising look. "I'm afraid this is all very real."

There was a pregnant pause following Lex's speech. It was Mrs. Ross who finally broke the silence: "Pete, Clark, I think you boys should leave. This probably isn't something you should see and--"

"I'm not going, Mom. Isis is more than just my cousin, and if they let her come on camera even one time I want her to know . . .to know that we're here. We haven't abandoned her," Pete finished softly.

Another thick pause before Pete asks his dad to turn it on. There was a moment of fumbling with the tuner -- Mike, Pete's older brother finally had to step in -- before, suddenly, a blindfolded Isis came into view.

"I hope you recognize her," a male voice purred from off-camera. "Although how you'd miss her . . .? I didn't know your tastes ran to the exotic, Luthor."

Isis straightened in her chair, making it painfully obvious for everyone in the room that she was restrained in some way. "Mr. Luthor . . .I tried to tell them I was just your personal secretary--"

A hand flashed out of the gloom and caught her cheek. Her head snapped back. Stayed there a moment as if she were in shock. A dark spot formed near the bottom of the blindfold.

"What do you want?" Lex asked pleasantly, almost as if asking for sugar in his coffee.

"I thought the note was fairly explanatory."

"It seemed rather vague to me."

Clark put a steadying hand on Pete's shoulder just as his friend was about to do something foolish. He understood that it all seemed too civil, but they had to believe Lex knew what he was doing.

"A half a million dollars for the safe return of your girlfriend. And a few key access codes for your father's computer systems."

Lex's smile was admonishing as he shook his head. "My father doesn't bargain--"

"We aren't talking to your father."

"--and therefore his holdings are out of the question," Lex continued as if the man had not spoken. "As for my relationship with Miss Ross, it's strictly business."

"_The Daily Planet_ doesn't seem to think so."

Lex silently cursed the paper, vowing to become a stockholder. An important one. "Both the article and the picture are misleading."

"Then why haven't you sued for libel?"

"Until now they were also harmless," Lex said acidly. "Really this is pointless. While I appreciate Miss Ross' hard work, it's hardly worth a half million dollars. No one's seen you. If you'll . . ."

"Pete," Clark whispershouted.

"Clark, now is _not_ the time."

"But Pete, I think I hear a train passing in the background."

Pete turned to his friend. "Coming from the kidnappers?"

"No, coming from outside your door," Clark hissed.

"There are three different lines that run by town."

They had moved into the living room. "But only one that still has structures," Clark reminded his friend. "I could have Isis out of there in seconds. I know I could."

"What if they're not in town? There are trains all over Kansas. And if you're the only person that heard it then they can't be that close to the tracks."

Clark thought it over. "Or maybe they're someplace really insulated. You know, against noise and stuff. They might even just be really far inside the building. I have to try, Pete."

"What's with this 'I' thing? Isis is family, you aren't going anywhere without me."

"But--"  
"Peter, Clark! There you are." They turned to Mrs. Ross who embraced her son tightly. "Don't you two go wandering off, all right? Things are very tense right now. Mr. Luthor just passed your father a note saying that he's already contacted the police."

"Are they still . . .negotiating?" Pete hated the way it sounded like they were trying to buy something -- like a new car.

A look of understanding passed between Clark and Pete as they were herded into the kitchen. They'd get to rescuing after Mrs. Ross stopped babying them. Pete understood where it all was coming from, but still found it disconcerting to have his mom the lawyer and judge so... "thrown for a loop" seemed a bit like understatement. It didn't change the fact that Pete's mom had always been the steady, really steady, practical one. Pete guessed he had never seen his mother be so . . .mothering.

Not that Janet Ross wasn't a good mother, Pete thought to himself quickly. But neither did Janet Ross smother her children, or milk&cookie them to death. His dad was the one who ranted when one of their kids did something off the wall, but his mom was the one who came at them with the very calm, one-sided discussion of what had been done wrong and how it was going to be fixed. Once when Clark had mentioned how cool it must be to have a judge-Mom Pete told him not to forget scary.

He had been wrong. _This_ . . .this was scary. And try as he might he couldn't help but feel partly responsible for Isis' kidnapping. If only he'd _talked_ to her, apologized like Chloe kept badgering him to do. Maybe if he had they would all be sitting down to dinner now . . .and Isis would be with them.

But he and Clark were gonna fix that. Assuming his mother ever let them out of her sight!

They wandered into the doorway, Mrs. Ross hovering over the boys, as the volume in the living room climbed.

"I don't think you understand, Luthor," the unseen man snarled. "You don't _have_ a choice. We'll kill her," he assured them.

"No!" Pete whispered.

Lex shook his head as if he knew Isis' captor could see him. "I don't think you will. I think--"

"_I_ think you don't understand how serious we are. But let me help you with that. We've been going around this mountain long enough, Luthor. Me and your girlfriend . . .we discussed it too. Oh, I'm sorry, she's your _secretary_. Right, 'cause, you know, the last time I checked personal secretaries didn't move in with the boss."

"I have an entire castle-full of personal staff, Mister-- I never did catch your name," Lex mentioned pleasantly.

He ignored it. "I'm sure you do, Luthor. Just like I'm sure you're going to give me a quarter million dollars and your father's security codes."

Lex's voice had acquired a hard edge when he said, "I don't bargain."

"I think you will." A picture of what appeared to be a temporary tattoo suddenly replaced Isis onscreen. To Pete it looked like an old fashioned sea-captain's hat. "You were a club kid, Luthor. I bet you know what this is."

"Captain Tripps," Lex murmured.

The could hear the nameless man's sneering smile. "You know I've also heard that you're something of the chemistry whiz. Well for those in the audience that don't know, Captain Tripps is the street name for the watered-down version of a very powerful hallucinogenic. Actually it's pretty powerful itself. Very addictive too, isn't it Luthor. Isn't it," he pressed when Lex didn't answer.

"Yes. It is."

Pete found himself edging into the room as the screen reverted back to the live feed of Isis. 

"Well wouldn't you know, I just happened to get my hands on some nearly pure, practically uncut stuff." Isis was struggling although no one had touched her. "Even _if_ your girl has Tripped before. . . I suggest young children and those with weak stomachs leave the roo--"

"Enough with the games," Lex spat out hotly.

"That's just it, Luthor, I'm not playing." Then, to someone else: "Hit'er up."

Pete charged into the room. "NO!"

"Pete?!" Isis cried out as she struggled against a man they could only see from the waist down, and she couldn't see at all. Her head was forced down and a patch with the sea-captain's hat was slapped to the back of her neck. An angry scream tore from her, followed by a string of inventive curses. If it weren't all so terrifying it might have been funny.

Until the moment Isis stopped swearing-- her curses being replaced by a soft litany of Oh Gods. Lex feared she might hyperventilate. But then the drug began to take effect. She stiffened, took a deep shuddering breath as a tremor ran visibly through her body.

"It always seems to work fastest from the neck," the nameless man commented almost absently. "You've got two hours to give us what we want, Luthor, or I slap another dose on your playgirl here. That one will kill her, I promise. Even a street dose. Take the blindfold off!" he ordered.

The same faceless torso came into view. When it was gone Isis stared back at them. But it was obvious within moments that she didn't see them.

"Two hour, Luthor."

"I can't consolidate that kind of cash in two hours," Lex answered calmly.

Only Clark's restraining hand on his arm kept Pete from slugging Lex. How could the man just sit there? Didn't he feel anything?  
"Three then. I'll just make sure to up the dosage if you fall through," Isis' captor said almost jovially. Pete imagined that he was rubbing his hands together with a cartoon villain's glee. "But no more than three hours, Luthor."

"Where are we making the exchange?"

The man named an abandoned factory less than two miles out of town. "And no cops, Luthor. You can bring the family if you want, but if I sniff a badge your little miss' blood is on your hands, not mine. Oh and--"

"I have all the information I need," Lex said, holding onto his control tightly. "Thank you." At some unspoken command, Pete's brother, Mike, killed the sound.

Pete was immediately in Lex's face. "How could you just sit there like that, seeing what they're doing to her, and feel nothing? Do you even have a heart, Luthor?" he sneered.

"Peter Sinclair Ross!" his mother snapped.

"No, Mom. He drags us all into whatever . . ._problem_ he has with these guys and who gets hurt? Isis! It's time someone stood up to him!"

Lex smoothed his jacket, which he'd never removed, as he stood toe to toe with Pete. "I don't know if you've noticed but this has less to do with me than with my father," he said slowly, carefully.

"Then maybe you should have left Isis alone. She was doing just fine without you around. We all were."

"I think if Isis were here right now she'd be disappointed in you, Mr. Ross." Lex didn't add that she'd probably slap her cousin, or perhaps slug him. "She thought that you of all people understood that she's an adult and can make her own decisions. Who Isis chooses to associate with is her business. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Pete spun around as Lex passed him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get the money for your cousin's safe release."

"Lex!" Clark called. "Wait!" He ran after his friend. "Lex, Pete didn't mean what he said."

Lex sighed. "Yes, Clark, he did."

"Okay, maybe some of it, but he's feeling really bad about the kidnapping. So it all just came out . . .worse."

"Clark, there's no good way to tell someone you think less of them than pond scum," Lex said with the faintest hint of amusement. "But thanks anyway. And I understand. I kinda want to hit me too," he said, sliding into his car.

"Are you really gonna give them everything they want?"

"Hopefully not, but if it comes down to it Isis' life is worth more than a few thousand dollars and company secrets. Go home Clark. Someone should get some rest."

Clark's parents were on the phone when he went back inside the Ross house. "We were beginning to worry," were his mother's first words.

"They have Isis," were Clark's.

"Who has Isis?" Jonathan wanted to know.

Clark filled them in on the last hour and a half. "I can get to her, Dad. I know I can."

"This is a job for the police, son. Let them handle it. Didn't Lex say he'd already called?"

"Well then why aren't they here?"

"Maybe they don't want the Rosses to worry any more than they already are." That from his mother.

With a sigh Clark conceded to his parents, apologizing for not calling earlier. "Would it be all right if I stay at Pete's? I don't feel right just leaving him and his family like this."

"We understand, sweetheart." His mother.

"But you've got to promise to stay out of trouble." His father in a Meaningful Tone.

"But what if I _can_ help. Mom, Dad, I'm not just gonna let-"

"We know you won't, son. We wouldn't expect anything less from you. Just . . .be careful no matter what happens."

"And call!"

"I will Mom."

Pete burst in on him just as Clark was saying his goodbyes. "Her eyes are green."

"What?"

"Mike's been watching the screen to see if maybe one of the bad guys slips up and walks on camera or something. He said that Isis' eyes just turned green." They went back into the living room. "Mike, her eyes still green?"

Pete's brother nodded. "Yeah and they're really dilated too. Sometimes they shift around real fast, like she's in REM." Mike looked from the television to the boys. "You know, Mom's right, maybe you guys shouldn't be watching this. I've heard about Captain Tripps. If Isis has a bad trip this could be real ugly."

To Mike's surprise neither Pete nor Clark fought him, just mumbled in agreement and ran upstairs. "What'd your parents say?" Pete asked as soon as the door was shut. With Mike keeping an eye on Isis they were safe in the room Pete shared with him.

"They're letting me stay for as long as I want. And they told me to be careful."

"Clark, man, you told them? Why the--"  
"I _didn't_, Pete. They sorta figured it out."

"What do you mean,_ sorta_?"

Clark shrugged. "I told them what happened and, you know, they put it all together. Next thing I know Dad's telling me to let the police handle it."

"But they're okay with it now?"

"Yeah. I guess. Like I said, they told me to be careful."

"And we will."

"Now hold on a sec, Pete."

"Look, man, Mike's keeping an eye on Isis, Lex is handling the money and the cops, and my parents have got the family and the legal thing."

"Family thing?"  
Pete smile for the first time all night. "Yeah, my dad called Uncle Malcolm while you were on the phone with your parents."

"Isis' dad?" Pete nodded. "So where do we start looking for Isis?" he asked Clark.

"If it's what I'm thinking then we're going to the south end of town, down where Mr. McLeans granary used to be."

Pute pushed off his desk suddenly. "I have an idea. Come on, I bet they practically told us and we just forgot."

"What?" Clark was close behind as they raced downstairs, totally lost.

*

Contrary to very popular, albeit equally cover, belief, Lex Luthor was not completely hairless. Like nearly ever other human being on the topside of the Earth, he had a fine covering of down on most of his body. Scarcely visible, it was nevertheless very sensative.

Which he reminded the tech taping him through gritted teeth every time the man arbitrarily moved the wire. The wire he was going to be wearing when they went to rescue Isis.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor," the tech apologized quickly, seconds before he ripped the taped wire from Lex's chest.

"I'm sure you are," he growled. "Where are you moving it now?"

"Back of your neck." The man was nervous, pushing his glasses up his nose whenever he spoke to Lex. "Just realized there'll be too many layers betwen you and the mike if it's on your chest. Unless we want to know how good your heart is," he said with a small laugh. "Which-which we don't. Uh," another glasses-push in the face of Lex's glare, "on your neck there'll only be your scarf. Which you'll need to conceal it."

"Not to mention bleeding cold."

The nervous tech stopped his rewiring. "Well, yes, I suppose so."

"Just get on with it," Lex snapped. He was tired of standing like a tailor's mannequin; tired of the cold faces of the police; tired of the way Matthews _didn't_ look at him. Lex was tired of somehow being able to be wrong without trying -- of being drawn into it like a hapless swimmer caught in a whirlpool. If the world was going to fall apart around his ears, Lex decided, then he wanted his hands to have done some of the pulling. Because if he wasn't going to sit back and let Lional Luthor dictate to him, then he certainly wasn't going to let Fate and Circumstance take his father's place.

And just like that he realized he had come to the decision Gabe had told him was already lurking in his brain. He'd have to call the big man in the morning. If morning ever came. And if it did, Isis would be the second to know. Because she was drawing up the business plans.

The officer heading the operation, a suprisingly whip thin man named Narning, strode across the study cum war-room. "You remember the plan, Mr. Luthor?  
"Quite well, Officer Narning. It seems simple enough."

"If you don't mind, I'd just like to hear it back from you one last time before we go out."

Lex did mind but: "I drive to the drop-off point alone, get out and let myself be check for listening devices. Or not. Either way after they scan me I give the signal--"

"Which is?"

"You know, Narning, I actually _don't_ have time for this," Lex snapped, pulling his shirt on with a sharp snap. 

"I understand you're anxious, Mr. Luthor, but I'm the expert here. Now I know how my men will perform under stress but for me you're the wild card. To me you're just as dangerous as the bad guys 'cause I just don't know what you'll do if it gets rough out there. Now don't get me wrong, I trust that you have Ms. Ross' best interest in mind, but hearing you go over things one more time puts my heart at ease just a little bit."

Lex let out a breath. He really really didn't like being out of control.

*

"How are we gonna get out the house?" Clark asked. "Your parents've got 24/7 guard patrol."

Pete frowned. "I hadn't actually worked that part out." He kicked one of the kitchen cabinets. "I hate th--"

"There's a police car pulling up."

"What?" But Pete was already leaving the kitchen even as he asked. The car had to be approaching fast because, within seconds, he too heard the sirens.

His dad was at the door talking to Sheriff Ethan. Then he was pulling on his coat and calling for his wife. Soon they were both out the door with hasty instructions to Mike to keep an eye on Pete and Clark, not to let them out of his sight for any reason, and make sure they didn't starve. Did he understand?

"Sure Mom. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

"We'll be back with Isis in a few hours."

Mike waved from the door as they pulled off in the squad car. Hastily shutting the door against the cold, he turned to the empty hallway. He walked back to the kitchen. Not only was watching Isis trip painful, depressing and horrifyingly fascinating, but it was hungry work too.

"Pete! Clark! Want some frozen pizza? I'm putting one in the oven!"

There was no answer.

"Pete! Clark!"

Mike ran into the den. He checked the dining room, the living room, upstairs, the basement and even the shed. As a last resort he even tried his sister's old room/Mom's study.

Then he noticed Clark's truck was missing. They were gone.

*

Cold as Lex was, he was careful not to pull his hat down around his ears. No sense giving the signal when he was still walking across this impromptu parking lot. No, if someone screwed this up it certainly wasn't going to be him.

So long as Isis kept up the wild hallucinant act everything would go off without a hitch, Lex reassured himself. She knew just as well as he did that a second Trip just wasn't as good, or as long, as the first. And that it took Captain Tripps a month or more -- depending on the dosage -- to completely leave the body. It was nothing if not a pernicious drug.

He stopped at the meeting place. And kept one hand very firmly on the briefcase, the other clutching itself tight in his pocket.

*

"There's Lex," Pete hissed. "They'll probably come from over--"

But he was cut off when an entourage of three men and Isis, unmistakable even in the dark, came from an entirely unexpected direction: nearly over their heads. Pete and Clark pushed themselves further into the ditch besides the train tracks. When they had passed Pete hit Clark. "Why didn't you tell me they were coming?"  
"I didn't hear them!" Clark hissed back.

"You didn't . . .! You heard a background train that was nearly a mile away from a building, from a television! How could you not hear four people tramping up behind us?"

Clark shrugged. "The hearing's still kinda new. It doesn't always work like I want."

With a roll of his eyes and disgusted mutterings about alien puberty, Pete asked if Clark could get it to work "so we can find out what they're saying?"

Clark concentrated.

"Well?"

"They've stopped. Isis is a handful. Wait, two of them have got her and now they're mov-- Pete! Get up!" Clark was already on his feet.

"What? What's wrong?"

"They plan on killing Isis after they take the money, and then they'll take Lex hostage."

"But you heard what Lex said, his father doesn't deal."

"Yeah, but Lex is giving them some codes or something." They were trotting up behind the small group, trying to stay out of sight. Clark wondered if he should just speed there, get Isis and protect Lex. As he and Pete hid in the shadows of an oversized derelict machine, he decided to wait. And hoped that it was the right decision.

*

Lex was proud: Isis convulsed at all the right moments. "I have the money."

"And the codes?"

The speaker wasn't the man Lex had been negotiating with. But that would be dealt with later. "In the briefcase." Lex pulled his hat down over his frozen ears. "With the money. Might I ask what you're going to do with my money?"

"We'll meet halfway and exchange the goods."

Lex let his question drop. Besides, the Bad Guys only gave up their plan for world domination in comic books and on cartoons. This was eerily like real life.

As he got closer he could hear Isis' mumblings: "Aren't red spiders poisonous? That thing's poisonous. Red and big. Red and big. Bald. Bald spider? Is it poisonous? You're trying to kill me!" she shrieked, bucking against her captors. They held fast as if they were used to it. Just as suddenly it was over and they were walking again.

Almost there. It was almost over. Lex took a slow deep breath and counted his steps.

"LEX!"

Everyone turned.

"Lex, it's a trap!" Clark yelled, running toward the small party, Pete in tow.

"PETER!" Isis ducked under her captor's arms, head-butting one as she came up while the other fumbled with the protective plastic cover of a Captain Tripps patch.

Lex was racing toward her when he heard the distinctive click of a gun safety going off. And a shot being fired.

"Are you all right? Lex, are you okay?"

"If you get off me, Clark, perhaps I'll be better able to breathe."

All two hundred and fifteen pounds of sixteen year old savior scrambled off Lex. "Sorry." Clark offered him a hand up.

There were sirens in the distance. "Go help Isis," Lex ordered, listening to their approach.

"Pete's got it. I saw him tackle the guy trying to get Isis when I knocked you over." Clark didn't bother to clarify that he'd sped his friend into the middle of the fight.

They were sprinting toward the cousins when the squad cars swerved into the open area, an ambulance close behind. Pete's parents were let out of a car and raced to meet them.

"Hey Clark, could you undo these?" Isis turned to show her bound hands. "Pete's not strong enough or his hands are frozen and, well, so are mine," she groused. "Hey Lex."

There was only time for a nod before Officer Narning, the Rosses and EMS swarmed their small party, pushing and pulling Lex away. "The tracer in the briefcase . . .?"

"It's been activated," Narning assured him. "You did good out there, Mr. Luthor. Although my guy listening in could have sworn there was a shot fired. Anyone hurt?"

Lex gave the ant hill behind them one last look before motioning Narning to follow him. "No. No one was hurt, though I think it was meant for me." At Narning's raised brow Lex clarified: "Clark pushed me down. Probably just in time." Lex idly scratched his skull-capped head. "He seems to have a knack for doing that."

"Where did the boys come from?"

"If you think I had anything to do with their being here, Officer--"

"No, no, just curious. I"m sure after they're hailed as heroes their parents will light into'em."

Personally Lex didn't share Narning's opinion, but he kept that to himself. "Actually I was going to ask them _how_ they got here when you and your men showed up. They were out of the room for most of the negotiations and, as I understand it, had no contact with Mr. and Mrs. Ross. . . Someone will figure it out." Lex opened the car and slid inside, reaching into the glove compartment. 

The cell phone, slender and rounded, was in Lex's pcoket almost before Narning had time to register what it was.

"Will you be needing a statement in the morning?"

"No," Narning answered, "but we'll be in touch. And we'll let you know as soon as we find the men behind this."

Lex stuck out his hand. "Please understand when I say I hope we see very little of each other in the future," he said with a professional half-smile that hid his weariness.

"I do." Narning took his hand and shook it. Twice. Firmly. "Mr. Luthor."

"Officer Narning."

Then Lex was off, striding back toward the anthill: to the Queen's chamber itself. He took the cell phone out of his pocket, flipped it open and dialed from the phone book. "Hello. No sir, this is Lex Luthor, but if you'll give me a moment . . ."

Pete had been pushed to the fringes of the small crowd attending and dissecting Isis. But he forced his way through them when Lex handed him the cell.

"For the trill-zillionth time I'm fine! Okay, so I'm a little thirsty but they didn't really do much to me. Just the-- Pete, what's this?"

He forced it into Isis' hands before he was pulled away by his parents. "For you!" he called over the EMS, police, and uniforms he didn't even know. "From Lex!"

Isis gave the phone in hand a quick hard look before putting it to her ear. She didn't know Lex had a phone like hers; she could have sworn his was a Motorola. And, okay, she knew she was telling everyone she was fine, but really she _had_ been kidnapped. Business couldn't wait until--

"Lex Luthor, are you still there?!" an upset voice demanded. So familiarly.

Isis' hand flew to her mouth. Tears filled her eyes. "_Daddy?_"

"Izzy? Oh sweetheart . . ."

Lex had turned his back on the scene when the Ice Princess melted. So he wasn't prepared for her attack. Hearing his name mere seconds before she launched herself at him was his only warning, although later he would suspect it had merely been a ploy to make him turn around. But except for taking a few steps back on impact, it was okay. Isis had time to wrap her arms around his neck and murmur a watery Thank You into his ear before she was pried away. No one could get the cell phone out of her hand, though they tried. Pete would later tell Lex that she actually snapped her teeth at someone. . .

And Lex will remember that he managed to hug her back before she was taken away.

*

Tuesday, Nov 5

_Knock Knock_

"Matthews, come in," Lex said without looking up from the reports in front of him. The quarterlies were on the right flat-panel and his comments on the left.

"I'm not Matthews."

Lex looked up.

"But he did let me in. Hope you don't mind."

"Isis."

She gave him that guarded smile she had at the restaurant. It felt like weeks ago. "Hi."

He stood and came around the desk. "Hi. They finally let you out to visit?"

"One day of observation at the hospital, another two at the family house. Mmm hmm, _just_ let me out."

"So you're moving back in with your Aunt and Uncle."

"They want me too," Isis admitted, "but . . .I'd rather stay here. If your offer still stands."

"It does."

Isis' smile finally became wide and sunny. A little dangerous. Genuine. "Great. Now I can finally get the rest of my crap in here."

"Is your family okay with this?"

She sighed. Lex was the last person she'd expected to ask that one. "Aunt Jan and Uncle Mark aren't, but my cousins are. Actually we had this big fight last night and Mike, Pete and Bobby stood up for me."

"That's pretty amazing."

"I was pretty amazed," she said with soft wondering laughter. "Pete says thanks, by the way."

Lex felt his eyebrows climb. "Really now?" 

"Yes, really."

He went into the little refrigerator by his desk and pulled out two bottled waters. "And what do you say?" he asked over his shoulder.

She was there, in his space, when he stood up and turned around. They were halfway into the kiss before Lex _knew_ they were kissing; that he'd put the bottles down behind him and was kissing her back. It didn't register that she was holding his face in her soft hands at all until she stroked his lower lip with her thumb.

"Thank you."

* 

Dedications: to Black Pearl, kimi, Cam (a lovely writer herself), and darlene. this chapter was going to get written anyway, but you gave me the drive to finish it and finish it well. i'm *not* just writing for myself. feedback *does* keep a story alive. and here's the proof. 


	17. Me cook?

Author's Note: please be aware that, as usual, this is fresh off the press, and as such this fic has been spell-checked but not necessarily anything-else-checked 

* 

Me, cook?! HAHahahahaha (or Fire and the frying pan) 

* 

Monday, Nov.. 25 

"Hey, Clark," Isis said with a smile as she wandered into the study. "Waiting for Lex?" 

Clark turned. "Uh huh. Have you seen him?" 

"Mmm, I think he's still fencing with . . .Johann? Bjorn?" She shrugged. "Something Swedish. Hey, I never got a chance to thank you." 

"For what?" 

Isis was close enough to punch him. So she did. "For saving my life silly." 

Clark ran a hand through his hair. It was time for a trim. "Lex did most of the saving." 

"Yeah, and I already thanked him, like, a month ago. Besides, you also saved me from the Evil Cornfield," she added melodramatically. She looked around, "Jeez, where's the thunder and lightening when you need it," she wondered aloud. "Anyway, all that aside, this is the third time you've saved my life, Clark." 

He was beginning to feel like prime rib -- mostly because Isis was circling him. Finally she stopped, but Clark felt his cheeks go hot when she wrapped her arms around his neck, their bodies flush together. 

"I just want to show my appreciation, Clark. Especially since it feels like you've been avoiding me," she murmured. 

"N-not avoiding. I mean, I h-haven't been avoiding you. It's just, you know, worked out that way?" 

" 'Worked out that way?'" She chuckled softly. "You don't even know. Do you?" 

He shook his head no. Okay, so he _had_ been avoiding Isis, but not because he wanted to. This was the first time since the kidnapping that Clark could even be near her without feeling faint. Pete had come up with a theory: The doctors had told them that Isis would be excreting Tripps from her pores for a few weeks. A month, tops. "But remember when her eyes went all green? I bet somehow the meteor rocks got into the batch of Tripps they gave Isis so she's secreting _that_ too. Man, talk about your contact high." 

But Clark was pretty sure that the all-over . . .body tingle he was feeling had _nothing_ to do with meteor rocks. 

"Ice. . . What are you doing to Clark?" 

Isis threw her head back, forcing Clark to support her arched back. "Nothing, Lex." 

"Then why is Clark as red as your hair?" 

She straightened in Clark's arms, studying his face intently. "Must be a capillary problem," she announced. "You know, you really should have someone look into that, Clark. Maybe Lex? He's all biochemically y'know." 

Clark's gaze jumped from Isis' mischievous eyes to Lex's amused ones. Well he thought they were amused, although the closer Lex came the more annoyed he looked. "Um, Isis," Clark said quickly, "I, uh, feel appreciated already. No thanks needed. Nope. None at all. Really." 

"But I want to thank you." 

Lex paused mid step. "Listen to him, Isis." 

"Mmm, but what if I don't want to?" she purred, staring into Clark's eyes. 

"You thanked me already," he assured her. 

"Uh huh." 

Was the room spinning, Clark wondered, or was it the rush of blood away from his brain? 

Lex put firm, possessive, hands around her waist. "Isis," he warned. 

She tilted backward to look at him. "Yes, Lex?" 

"Let Clark be." 

"But what if I don't want to?" she repeated. Then pulled Clark down as she stood on tiptoe. 

Lex found his hands trapped between their bodies, unable to pull away. Unable to do anything but watch. And support them when Clark stumbled forward into Isis' blackhole kiss: all tongue and lips and devouring mouth. 

_This is nothing like kissing Chloe_. 

Isis pulled away slowly, Clark's lower lip between her teeth. Her laughter was rich and deep, echoing between the two men, as Clark followed her down -- like a starving man after his first meal. 

Lex's hands slipped from her waist as Clark stepped back. With dry sarcasm he noted that Clark's eyes seemed to "be a bit glazed." 

"Huh?" Chloe had _definitely_ not kissed like that. Not even Lana when she had been under the thrall of the Nicodemus flower. Isis even tasted different; Chloe was sharp, tangy, a bright citrus while Lana had been like the smoky aftertaste of food off the grill -- enticing but dangerous. 

"Sweet," Clark blurted, finally refocusing. Isis had definitely been sugary like . . . "Hey, where's Isis?" 

Lex patted his naive friend's shoulder as he walked to his desk. "She slithered out almost a full minute ago." Lex remembered the way her fingers hovered over Clark's lips, as if to touch him, only to laugh and slip away. What Lex said was, "You act like you've never been kissed, Clark. You _have_ kissed someone, haven't you?" Lex restlessly moved to the pool table as two spots of color blossomed on his friend's cheek. 

"Of course I've been kissed." 

"Mrs. Kent doesn't count, Clark." 

Clark made as if to throw something. "I'll have you know I've even initiated a kiss or two--" 

"Good man, Clark." 

"But they were nothing like . . .like that." Lex's raised brows begged an explanation. "It was like . . .I guess it was like . . ." Finally Clark threw up his hands. "I don't know, it was probably how a small star feels next to a black hole." 

"Irresistible?" 

"Yeah, and a little scary too. Because it was so intense," Clark added hastily. He went to lean against the pool table beside Lex. "You aren't mad at me, are you?" 

Lex turned to him. "Why would you think I'm mad?" 

"Maybe not 'mad.' 'Upset' is probably a better word." 

The eyebrows again. Questioning. "I seemed upset." 

"Yeah. Mostly at Isis, but I thought maybe a little at me too." 

"Why would I be upset that my best friend got to kiss a beautiful woman. Heck, I even got to watch. Now I can cross voyeurism off my To-do list for today." 

Clark smiled, satisfied. "Good. Because I know you told Isis to stop and she didn't, but I could of stopped her if I really tried and--" 

Lex put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Clark, stop. You have nothing to worry about. It's not like Isis and I are in a relationship." 

* 

Lex barely gave Isis a second glance when she pirouetted into his study, announcing dinner in less than an hour. Although he did manage to notice one thing. "You're dripping." 

"Well yes, that's what happens after someone emerges from a swimming pool -- they drip. Sometimes for hours if it's humid enough." 

His eyes flicked from the flatscreens to Isis rocking on her heels. "You're making puddles on my hardwood floors." 

"And if I take a step to my left it'll be on your Persian rugs. Jeez, Lex, you didn't seem to have this problem when you showed me the upstairs pool two weeks ago." 

Lex didn't deign to answer. 

"Look, I'll get a towel for my hair if that will help your little temper tantrum, but what should I tell--" 

"What was that about with Clark?" 

Isis frowned, stilling. "What was what with Clark?" 

"Don't play dumb. We both know better," he said to the flatscreens. 

"Not that stupid kiss? Is that what this is all about?" Isis dissolved into uncontrolled giggles. "I've never seen you this way, LL. Jealous of Clark-bar, are we?" 

"Is there anyone else I should be jealous of? Officer Narning, or Pete for instance." 

"Lex! How dare you! I don't know--" 

"I think you told Clark that you were 'thanking' him?" 

Oh. Oh yes. That had been what she'd said to Lex, hadn't it, nearly a month ago. But of course he saw it wasn't the same. Clark was a sixteen year old boy, and Lex was . . . Lex _was._ "You are _not_ jealous." 

His steely, level gaze met hers. 

"Obviously you see it wasn't the same." 

"Wasn't it?" Sitting back in his chair Lex laced his fingers together. "I take it, then, that this is why you haven't been . . . I think Clark would say 'putting out.'" 

Isis laughed. If it hadn't been for the shock she might have strode over there and smacked the look off his face. "He'd probably say 'doing it.'" Yes, shock was a wonderful thing. 

"Lex," she pulled her still-dripping braids into a bun, "I know we aren't technically in a relationship. I'm not even sure if we're dating, but I'm nothing if not strangely committed. That kiss with Clark was so beyond worthless--" 

"You seemed to invest a lot in it." 

"So it was intense," she shrugged. 

"And what we've been sharing has been . . ." 

"It's been . . . You know Lex--" She _did_ stride across the floor, and around his desk, to stand over him. Isis rested her palms on the arms of the chair. "You know what? You're a Grade A jerk, LL," she said quietly. Lex sat stoically as she straddled his lap. "Especially if you can't feel the difference between nothing and something." 

Her mouth on his was insistent, demanding, cajoling and teasing in turns. With her tongue she begged entrance to his mouth, and with her teeth she demanded it. Insistent hands kneaded the back of his neck: audience participation was a must. 

This was what Des'ree's kisses had been like. Kisses full of heat and longing. Kisses that had started in his office and led to the bedroom. They were full of a attack and retreat -- a lick along the roof of his mouth . . .lips dragged across his own. There were fevered eyes and heavy breathing. 

Lex braced himself for a second onslaught -- he was not falling for this _again_ -- as Isis descended. But he was unprepared for . . .gentleness: for her near-chaste brush of smooth dry lips against his own. And instead of continuing, she rested her forehead against his for a heartbeat. Her hands slid from the back of his head to cradle Lex's jaw gently in her tapered fingers. Isis' lips pressed against his once more, soft, gentle, patient, as her fingers caressed his jaw. 

It was just her lips and fingers, but Lex soon forgot about everything but the warm woman atop him. His executive chair, his mahogany desk and richly appointed office were as real as an expensive VR experience. 

This was . . .this was a slow burn. This was a promise. Isis wasn't manipulating him, pushing all the right sensual buttons to get him off. She was giving. With her mouth and hands, tongue and nibbling teeth, she opened herself to Lex, giving and giving until, finally, he began to _take_. The parts of her body became part of his sensual reality as Lex's hands roamed under clothes. They went as far down as her low-riding lounge pants, and as high as her bra-strap. The offending article slid forward as she arched her back. 

Isis squirmed in Lex's lap as his attention refocused on her stomach. Her breasts. She knew things were going too far too quickly when Lex dragged his mouth from hers and took her hands from his face. If he raised her arms over her head . . .If he got her shirt off . . .If he _kissed_ her anywhere below her chin _right now_ she was lost. And Isis wasn't . . . She just _couldn't_. 

"No. Lex, not here--" 

"My bedroom, then," he said thick-tongued. Lust-dark eyes looked into hers. 

"--not now. I'm sorry." 

"_Isis_." 

"I know I should stop doing this to us. To you. Maybe it would be better if I moved back to the boarding house?" she suggested, sliding off his lap. 

Lex caught her wrist and pulled her back. With a soft sigh he placed her arms around his neck. "Who said anything about moving out? But you're right, you can't keep leaving me like this," he growled, hips thrusting. 

"I could take care of that." She ground down onto him. 

Where her eyes always that dark, Lex wondered as he stifled an involuntary moan. "_Devil spawn_." 

She licked the skin just below his lower lip. "I'm an angel." 

"An angel of torture." 

"If it makes you fee better, I'm just as hot and bothered." 

"Really?" 

It was Isis' turn to grab Lex's wrist as he tried to sneak past her waistband. "Nuh uh," she reprimanded before bringing his fingers to his lips. Before he quite knew what she was going to do, his middle finger had been sucked into her hot wet mouth. 

"_Jeez!_ Isis!" His hips jerked involuntarily. 

She released his finger and laughed, hugging him close and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I meant it when I said I'd take care of you. It's not fair that I keep bringing you so close--" 

"And leaving me here," Lex finished drily. 

Isis smiled into his neck. "Exactement, cher. I really am devoted to this . . .dining together and shows and kissing and laughing and mild affection--" 

"I think it's called 'dating,' Ice." 

"Hmm, 'dating.' That could work. So yeah, I'm hardcore about this whole dating thing. I know the Lex I knew from Metro U probably would have found some other chick to get him off by now, but you're a different man now, aren't you." 

She sat up suddenly. "Aren't you?" 

Lex held up his hands defensively, eyes twinkling. "Very different." 

"Because don't think I haven't seen the way Sharelle, The Jiggling Maid, looks at you Mister." 

It was all so comical he laughed. 

"You would think that child was made from blond jello," Isis muttered darkly as she settled herself against Lex's neck again. 

"We've been invited to the Kents for Thanksgiving," Lex told her after a long time. "Or you have." 

Isis snorted indelicately. "You know Mrs. Kent wouldn't not invite you." When he didn't reply she took another track. "Is that why Clark was here, to make the invite?" 

"And to spend some 'quality time.'" 

She settled herself more comfortably in Lex's arms. "Did I ruin that?" 

"I wouldn't say ruin . . ." Silent laughter shook her shoulders and Lex wondered if she were falling asleep. The last time a woman had fallen asleep on his lap she had been giving Lex a lap-dance. She too had left him with an aching hard-on, as he recalled. Of course both parties had been high. 

He nudged Isis gently with his shoulders. Eyelashes tickled his neck. "How've you been sleeping? Still having nightmares?" 

* 

Friday, Nov.. 15 - Saturday, Nov.. 16 

Someone was screaming. Far away. Lex had to get up. Stop them. Stop her. A high-pitched scream. A Her. Lex had to stop her. Save her. 

Lex struggled through the press of bodies. The faceless nameless woman clinging to his naked waist. Hands holding him. Pulling him. Sticking to Lex's skin. 

She screamed. Again. Piercing. Yes, a girl. He . . .knew her? The faceless woman clutched his left shoulder. He pulled. 

She screamed. 

_I'm dreaming_. 

Lex was up, struggling against the twisted bed sheets and stumbling over his own feet in his haste. He found Matthews, be-robed and shaggy, putting his key to Isis' door. There was a heartbeat of recognition between them, then Matthews pushed open the door. 

The screaming had stopped a moment before they'd entered and the silence was eerie. Lex sense other servants crowding the door behind him and ignored them. Moonlight illuminated the room in colored patches that seemed to shift as he navigated around a small table. There were whimpers in the deeper dark. A mumble. A gasp. A plaintive No. 

Matthews passed him in the dark: less cautious and more sure. "There are tissues on the desk there." 

"How long?" 

Another plaintive No. 

"These past five nights," Matthews says as he smoothes Isis' furrowed brow. "Earl can hear her from his room. 

Bright eyes shone out of the darkness. "Martin." She struggled up from the bedding as Matthews helped her. "I'm sorry. I woke everyone up again, didn't I?" She rested her head against Matthew's shoulder. "Lex is still asleep, isn't he?" 

She said it with an assurity Lex hated to destroy. He sat on the bed, "No Isis." 

"Oh God . . .I'm sorry." Matthews got up from the bed. Isis followed him with her eyes. "I know you've had a long day," she said to the butler's back. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were having nightmares?" 

Isis turned at Lex's voice. "Hmm? Oh, I didn't want anyone to worry. I knew you'd go to my aunt and uncle . . ." She drifted off as the housekeeper came back into range, bearing a teacup. "Thank you." 

"I can keep a secret with the best of them, Ice." 

Isis' focus shifted back to Lex. "I'm not accusing you of . . .of . . . I meant that I knew you'd feel obligated to say something to my family." 

But Lex was pretty sure that he wouldn't -- the idea of telling the Rosses out of some sense that they _ought_ to know only just occurring to him -- and remained silent. 

Which brought Isis' gaze up from her tea to Lex's hooded eyes. "You don't have to stay with us. I know you had a long day. A long week. I was just about to shoo Mar-- Matthews away." 

But it didn't look like the man was going anywhere. Nor was Lex. More tea was brought up. 

The rest of the house settled in for sleep as Lex and Matthews settled into chairs around the bed. Isis brushed imaginary hair from her face. "So, what now?" 

"We wait for you to go back to sleep," Lex said softly, a small smile hiding his weariness. 

Her laugh was short, echoing in the dark. "I don't think so." Isis piled up the pillows behind her and sat back, legs crossed. 

"Then we talk," Matthews said. 

But Lex _had_ had a long day. A long week. After a few minutes the comfortable conversation between Matthews and Isis became a comfortable background hum. The last conscious thing Lex would take with him into unconsciousness was someone taking his teacup from his numbing fingers. 

"Sir!" 

Lex released the maid's wrist as he opened his eyes. Dawn had only just come and a glance at his watch let him know the young woman had awoken him minutes before his body-clock normally went off. He stood stiffly, catching the coverlet as it slid from his body. "Where are Matthews and Miss Ross?" 

"Mr. Matthews is just taking his shower, sir, and I thought I saw Miss Ross going to the kitchen." 

"Why didn't Matthews wake me?" he asked as if he expected her to know. 

"He probably fell asleep in the chair again." She shifted her weight from leg to leg, anxious and having trouble hiding it. 

"Then why not Isis?" 

"I don't think she ever went to sleep." 

With a nod of thanks he let the girl get on with her work and left. 

* 

_arms aching walking through blackness_

_glint of metal off starlight _

_LEX!! _

_male voice: LEX _

_BANG BANG_

_fire in the darkness starbursts BANG_

_feel the impact feel bone splinter shatter EXPLODE _

_feel the bullet move feel it tear through tissue burn skin rip blood vessels _

_drown _

_drown in your blood _

_every breath a death sentence_

_hot blood hothot blood gurgle up your throat through your fingers out your mouth _

_your mother comes _

_stands over you _

_gun hot sizzling steam in her hands _

_your mother points aims fires _

_time to think: If I die in my dreams, will I die in real life_

_watch the bullet race---- _

* 

Present 

"Don't worry about me," Isis said as she slipped from Lex's embrace. Leaning over she dropped a final kiss on his forehead. "Don't forget dinner in half-an-hour. Or maybe 15 at this point." 

"Which again reminds me: The Kents . . .Thanksgiving dinner . . .don't forget to RSVP." 

Isis rolled her eyes. "Mr. Kent may not be fond of you but they wouldn't extend an invitation they weren't willing to have accepted. You should go. I'm sharing Turkey Day with the fam. Even Dad's flying in from Gotham." 

"According to Clark half the town's been invited, the Rosses included. I think even Nell and Dean are coming into Smallville just for this." 

"Then why aren't _you_ going, Lex?" 

"Annual family dinner." 

"You don't sound too thrilled." 

"I'm not." 

"Okay, I guess I'll have to go on your behalf then," Isis said with a shrug. "Maybe you'll be able to break early? I know Clark'll be happy to see you there." 

"And you, Ice?" 

"All that rivaling male testosterone in one house? And other girls to witness the melodrama whilst digging into popcorn? Wouldn't miss it." 

* 

Thursday, Nov. 28, Thanksgiving Day 

As per Martha Kent's instructions, Isis was pulverizing the biscuit dough with her fists. She felt muscles cord in her arms and back, and wondered if you could pull something while baking. 

A glance over her shoulder let her know that Chloe and Lana weren't getting it any easier. Thank God they were wearing Clark's ratty T-shirts because, between the three of them, there was enough flour, feathers, internal organs and accompanying bodily fluids to ruin an entire department store collection. Surprisingly Lana was the most gung-ho about it all. Maybe that's why Mrs. Kent gave her Internal Organ Duty, Isis muses Chloe was at the sink washing feathers and feather-grit from her hands. 

"Make sure you get everything, Chloe. I need you to help Isis with the kneading next." 

"Sure thing, Mrs. Kent. 

"Slave-driver," she muttered next to Isis, who laughed. "And here I thought you were getting off easy, Ice." 

"Nope. Just different. Although Mrs. Kent suggests working out your aggression on the dough." 

"Is it helping?" 

Isis laughed. "My dough-kneading or my aggression?" 

Chloe shrugged. 

"Well Mrs. Kent hasn't complained yet." _And it doesn't hurt to beat up my nightmares... even if that won't stop them._

Martha stopped behind them, inspecting the dough. "Okay Isis, your batch is ready. Bringthat over here so I can roll it up and then you can help Lana dress the turkey." Martha must have seen the queasy look that darkened Isis' face, because she put a reassuring arm around the young woman as she steered Isis across the kitchen. "Don't you want to feel the satisfaction of knowing _you_ helped make Thanksgiving dinner this year? That your partly responsible for all the happy faces and full stomachs?" 

"No." 

Martha laughed. "That's okay, dear. You get to do it anyway." 

* 

Even laden down with trays, which the Ross men were quick to relieve them of, the girls admired the work the men had done on the living room. 

"Hey, the boys did good, Martha," Mrs. Ross said. She kissed her husband as she handed him her dish. 

"Yes they did. Think they deserve a reward?" 

A chorus of manly Yeahs went up around the room. Chloe, Lana and Isis booed. "We did twice as much work as they did!" "I have guts under my fingernails!" "My hands have kneading callouses!" 

Martha and Janice looked at each other, then over the bickering children to their adult counterparts. "I think dinner's reward enough, Janice. What do you think?" 

"I think I agree." 

Marcus Ross, Jonathan and Gabe voiced their displeasure as a male show of solidarity only. They were hungry and the rich smells weren't helping. And they knew better than the boys who really had the upper hand at the moment. Soon everyone was settling down to eat. 

Half a dozen people jumped up when the doorbell rang. 

"It's Nell and Dean!" Clark shouted from the foyer. 

"Clark, you were raised on a farm, not with the cows," Martha chided as the couple settled into the place left for them beside Lana. 

Before Clark could decide whether to grin or blush the bell sounded again. He sprinted back into the living room. "Isis, it's for you." 

With an ear-to-ear grin, she struggled out of her place around the already crowded table and ran into her father's arms. "Daddy!" she said into his coat. 

Father and daughter embraced for a long time before parting. "How's my favorite daughter doing?" 

"I'm your _only_ daughter. And good. Better. C'mon, give me your coat and let me introduce you to everyone. Knowing the Kents they're waiting for us so they can start." 

"Was that their son who opened the door for me?" 

"Uh huh. Clark. Sixteen going on seventeen; only adopted son; good kid. Saved my life twice. Cute as the dickens--" 

"_Isis_." 

"_Daddy_. As I was saying: Has major crush on one dark-haired Lana Lang and is the object of one blond Chloe Sullivan's major crush." She led him into the living room, his greatcoat weighing her down. "Everyone, this is my Dad, Malcolm Ross. Dad, this is Everyone." Isis lumbered away as they made proper introductions. 

The Ross cousins shared a grin when she saw that her father had taken a seat next to his brother, moving Isis between Pete and Clark. 

Everyone turned to the head of the table when Jonathan Kent stood. "I think we're all ready for dinner." A murmur of agreement rose from the table. "In that case I think I'll say grace so we can be on with it. 

Almost twenty heads bowed in anticipation. 

"Good bread. Good meat. Good God. Let's eat!" 

A roar of approval went up from the men. Martha threw her linen dinner napkin at her husband. Jon raised his hands for silence. "Since my beautiful wife objects I'll have to say a grace more worthy of her." A faint blush stole across Martha's cheeks even as she bowed her head. 

"God, we thank You for another year together. We thank You for this food and the hands that prepared it. We thank You for friends and family to share it with. And God, we thank You for being able to come together for many more years to come. Amen." 

"_Amen_." 

"Let's eat!" 

It was quickly apparent that nearly twenty people couldn't eat at the table at the same time. At least not comfortably -- there were already bruised ribs just from sitting together. And others were expected to drop by, if not actually stay for a meal. "I told you we should have had it in the barn, Martha," Jonathan quipped. 

They would have to eat in shifts. "I don't mind," Chloe said, relinquishing her seat. "After all that plucking and kneading and boiling, I'm not exactly hungry." 

Isis stood. "Ditto." 

Pete also gave up his seat, as did Clark, Nell and Mrs. Kent. 

Isis took Chloe's arm and suggested they "wander around." 

"It's 35° out there!" 

"Downright balmy for Kansas. Hey, it's not like I'm suggesting we go in bikinis. Coats are definitely a prereq to this adventure." 

Pete was at the ready. "If I may . . ." 

"No wonder you're the lady's man, bro, if you help all the girls with their coats." 

"Only the beautiful ones," he said with his trademark smile, offering them each an arm. 

Chloe turned to Clark. "You could learn a thing or two." 

"I keep trying to teach him but . . . I'm starting to think my man Clark's hopeless." 

Isis came to Clark's defense. "Not hopeless. Just . . .special." 

With a shake of his head, Clark started pulling at his coat, turning back toward the kitchen "where it's safe." 

By the time they got back Pete and Chloe had worked up a healthy appetite, but Isis and Clark held off for another shift. 

"Clark, honey, are you all right?" 

"Yeah Mom. Why?" 

"You haven't eaten anything." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"That's it. Jon, call an ambulance, Clark said he's not hungry." 

A round of laughter chased him out the kitchen. With all the people who had stopped by -- Whitney and his mom were briefly making the 2nd and a half shift before they went visiting in Edge City, while Sheriff Ethan and his wife were waiting for Shift 3 to begin -- no place was safe. Finally Clark decided that, while he may not be good at it, at least he could rib his friends back, and went in search of Pete and Chloe. With any luck Sam and Dave Ross would be feeling brave enough to shoot hoops despite the quickly falling temperatures. 

There was a friendly game of three-on-three going when Lex's car pulled onto the already overcrowded Kent lawn. Isis pulled away from the small shivering crowd of spectators -- herself, her dad, Mr. Ross, Lana, Dean and Mr. Kent -- as he got out of the silver car. "Lex! You made it. Just in time for 3¾ Shift. Or maybe it's officially 4th Shift now." 

"Huh?" Lex asked as he pulled away from her friendly embrace. 

Isis explained the eating situation. "I guess I just forgot to grab a plate watching them play." 

As they walked up the driveway Lex asked her to break down the game for him. "Well, I'm not really sure who's winning, but Pete, Same and Chloe are one team and Aunt Janice, Clark and Mike are on the other. You should have been here earlier. Clark couldn't make a basket if he were standing under it." 

"If I recall someone else wasn't that great a shot at that age. And still isn't." 

"Da-_ddy!_" Isis' voice climbed as her father managed to tickle her through the woolen layers. "Dad, if you'll . . .if you'll quit a second I wanna intro . . .introduce you to Lex Luthor. 

"Dad, this is Lex Luthor my 'landlord,' and Lex this is my father, Malcolm Ross." 

"So you're the young man that saved my little girl's life." 

"The police saved Isis' life that night, sir," Lex said as he took hold of the elder Black man's hand. "I just made myself available to them." 

Isis clapped her right hand on Lex's shoulder. "And so humble too. We'll catch you later, Dad. I mean unless you want to stay and watch the game, Lex, but I'm starving." 

"Looks like it's breaking up." 

"Huh. Wonder who won." 

Clark jogged over. "Lex! You came! I didn't think you would." 

Lex tugged his skullcap over his ears. "Neither did I. But I managed to . . .break early, and here I am. 

"So tell me, Clark," he threw an arm over his friend's shoulder, "is there any food left?" 

Isis let out a snort. "There'd better be! I'm starved." 

"Hey Lex!" Red-faced, Chloe joined their little group. "Didn't know you were coming. Hey, you're probably just in time to help the guys clean up the kitchen." 

"Aren't I lucky." 

"We think so. Right Ice?" 

"Abso_lute_ly, Clo! Hey, are you hungry, 'cause God knows I am." 

"Did someone mention food?" 

"Lana," Isis linked arms with the brunette. "Lana, if I hadn't seen you eat I wouldn't have thought you could put away so much." 

"What can I say, it's a skill." 

* 

He had watched her. He had watched her flirt with Clark. Had watched her kiss him. He abandoned her when he could feel it too.

Then he watched her undress. Watched her pull on the bathing suit. He watched her through the mirror. Through iced-chocolate eyes.

He abandoned her for the swimming. It was boring. But he watched her again when she got out. Abandoned her again when she threw herself on _him_.

And now he supposed he could watch her eat and socialize and be with Chloe and Pete and Clark and Lana _thebeautifulpeople_ but why when his parents were being so charming. He would wait. He always waited.

*

Author's Note: again, thank you guys for _all_ the _amazing_ support I've gotten for this crazy thing. yes i do know where it's going, which is a good thing. yes i do know how it ends, which almost assures that it will be finished. and yes, there is another chapter coming soon. unfortunately real life doesn't let me write like i want to, but i'm working on it. 

this is just further proof that feedback really does make or break a story. 


	18. More than you think

Author's Note: I warn you i'm in the middle of beta-ing this. And also, i'm looking for someone to back beta. I already have one offer, but more than one beta, especially for the longer chapters, would be excellent. Get back to me. 

* 

More than you think (and a heck of a lot less than you know) 

(or To sleep better) 

* 

Early Monday, Dec. 16 

The hot shower was a dream after the long swim. The pounding water relaxed the muscles in her neck and drew the chill from her body. She raised her face to the spray and smoothed the water over her slick, wet hair. It was all she could do to keep from lingering under it, but every wet slap of her feet against the pool tiles reminded her that this was just a place to rinse off. There was the towel-blanket on the shelf there, waiting for her to reach out and take it -- wrap herself in it, walk to her room, have a real shower and get ready for the day. 

Oh God, but she didn't want to. 

The nerves along her back prickled moments before she felt strong long-fingered hands on hers. The nearness of his body made the water cool by comparison. And his hands in her hair... She turns-- 

"What are you doing up this early?" She turns-- 

"How did you know I was here?" She turns-- 

"Good morning." She turned-- 

"DYLAN!" She wretched herself from his embrace. "How did you--?! What are you--?! Get out! Get the hell out!" Her voice climbing with every pronouncement. 

Dylan stepped through the cascading water, forcing her into a corner. "I don't think so." 

"This isn't _funny_ Dylan! You're trespassing and--" 

"I saw you in the water and I couldn't resist." 

"You couldn't resist . . .?" 

_If only her fingers could find her eyes_. Her angry outbursts echoed off the tiled walls, the crystal-faceted windows. Dylan dragged her back into the water. It cascaded down their heads, filling their noses, and pushing tangled wet hair into their eyes. It made holding onto her, and fighting him, that much more difficult. 

Dylan worked off the shoulder straps of her suit. She took a deep breath to scream. 

Isis' lungs filled with water. Instinct made her swim for the surface. Her head hit the inflated pool bed, upturned in the water. She sank. Her red, gold and brown braids floated in front of her eyes. They tangled in her hands as she fought to surface again. Scissoring her legs she punched the inflatable bed out of her way. 

Clutching at the bed with one arm Isis coughed water out of her tortured lungs while trying to take a breath. Her sides hurt, her arms ached, her head was pounding and she was cold--! 

She put both arms on the bed. Isis went under. She fought to surface again, pushing away from the deceptive floater. 

Finally, at the pool's edge, she held on. Coughed. 

Her feet scrabbled for purchase against the pool wall until Isis weakly pushed herself out the water. Too weak to sit up, she lay on her back on the floor and let her tears mingle with the puddle forming under her prone body. 

* 

Chloe slammed her locker. "I hate Midterms Week." 

Pete shrugged. "That's probably why it's called Hell Week." 

"I thought that was Finals Week." 

"Hey, same difference to me. Clark! My man! Where are you going? Class is this way." Pete thought his best friend's embarrassed flush was a bit excessive, but refrained from mentioning it in front of Chloe. "Ready for midterms?" 

Chloe rolled her eyes at Clark's shrug. "Like Brainiac here has anything to worry about. C'mon Clark, you know you'll be fine. It's the rest of us who have to worry." She sighed. "Oh well, 45 minutes of Math as Hell coming right up." 

The first bell rang. 

_BRIIIIIIIING!!_

"Pencils down please." There was a sudden flurry of pencils scratching against paper. "Pencils _down_ people." A collective sigh sounded as the class set aside their pencils and Scantron sheets. Knuckles and necks cracked, people stretched and furtive looks were thrown around as students packed their bags. "Don't forget your homework." 

A collective groan preceded them out. 

"Anyone else fail?" Pete asked as they left. 

"Fail what?" 

"Hey Ice. Math. We just took our midterm." 

She winced. "Bummer. I was never a fan of math either." 

Chloe frowned, "But aren't you a Business major?" 

"Yup. Shot myself in the foot with that one." 

"And . . . you smell like . . ." Chloe took a long sniff. "Candy!" 

"Guilty as charged. I've got Skittles, Sour Starbursts, SweeTarts and peppermints. What's your poison?" 

Pete's eyes went wide. "Jeez, Ice. You must be, like, a dentist's wet dream." 

"Gee. Thanks bro. I'm kinda rockin' the sugar rush to keep me awake. And before you ask, Chloe, I've been a coffee-fiend all morning too." 

"But still . . ." 

"Hey, just be happy I stopped short of the chocolate covered coffee beans." 

Even Chloe made a face. Pete looked like he might lose his breakfast. 

Isis turned, walking backwards. "Hey, Clark. Not up to talking?" 

"Uh, um, n-not really?" 

"Aw, come on Clark. Don't you want to joi-- Oomph!" Isis turned. "Eesh, I'm sorry I ran . . . I . . . ran . . ." 

Dylan Strauss smoothed his clothes. "It's not a problem." 

Isis took a hasty step backward as he passed them, pushing past Chloe and Pete, almost into Clark in her need to stay out of Dylan's way. None of them needed super-hearing to pick up Isis' ragged breathing -- as if she had been running -- but only Clark could hear her racing heart. He put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped. 

Chloe spoke first. "Isis, what's going on? Are you all right?" 

"I-I, uh, I had a bad dream. A nightmare I guess. Dylan was in it." 

"What?!" "What happened." "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah I'm . . .I'm fine. I'm good. I just--" 

The late bell rang. 

"Crap in a handbag, now you guys are late 'cause I'm flipping out for no reason. Look, I have to go to the office anyway, come with me and I'll write you all Late Passes." 

They formed a tight phalanx around Isis, Chloe with her arm around the obviously still distraught woman, but she wouldn't give them any more details. 

"I wonder what that was about," Chloe asked as they made their way to class. 

"I don't know," said Pete, "but I plan to find out." 

* 

The buzz of the cell phone in her pocket made Isis jump. She quickly fished it out before the silent vibrate feature turned into her annoying ringer, and she was kicked out the library. A quick glance at the Caller ID -- she only had one more buzz, maybe two, before the discordant melody started. 

She flipped the phone. "_Un moment, Alexandre_. Mr. Peters, could you watch my laptop," she begged the librarian as she rushed out the main room into the desert-hot foyer. "Lex?" 

"Are we still on for dinner in Metropolis?" 

"Right. Dinner." Despite the stifling heat she pace. "I guess I forgot." 

"If you're busy I understand. There'll be other times." 

"No, no, I've just been distracted . . .almost since the moment I woke up." 

"So we'll leave at 6? Or shall I pick you up?" 

Isis stopped. Him pick her up. That would be new . . .for them. But no, she needed to scrub the day from her skin. 

"Are you sure you'll be ready by 6?" he asked. "How about 6:30. I'm sure the restaurant will hold our reservation." 

"Six-thirty. Sure." 

Lex dabbed his lips with his dinner napkin. "Are you all right, Ice? You've been distant all evening." 

"Really? I guess it's just been a long day." 

Lex's eyes traveled from the sinning wine in her hand to her tight shoulders. 

"Hey, so how's LexCorp doing?" her voice dropping as she asked. "I mean the proceeding. Think you'll be ready to announce for Christmas?" 

"New Years is more probable. Speaking of Christmas, what time is your flight to Gotham?" 

"I've moved it actually. Now it's the redeye for the 23rd. Trying to balance Gotham family-time with Smallville family-time is going to make me pull out my extensions," she smiled, her fork halfway to her mouth. "And the Luthor family Christmas? What's it like?" 

Lex snorted. "Tedious. Full of manipulation, machinations, PR and various forms of wheeling and dealing." 

Isis set her fork down as she laughed. "Guess that means you'd be right at home at my grandparents' party. Last time I went . . ." She shuddered. "They started playing _matchmaker_." 

"So you were there until the bitter end?" 

Isis flicked food at him. "You big meanie. And I suppose you make it to the end of all your father's parties." 

Lex flicked wine back. "No. I'll admit that last Christmas was the first yeah I managed to be completely sober." 

"Wine Lex? How juvenile." 

"You started it." 

"Nuh uh." 

"Uh huh." 

"Nuh uh." 

Lex shook his head, smiling. "Are we still up for 'Rent?'" 

Isis tucked a pale braid behind her ear. "How about a movie?" 

"You want to go back to the Mansion?" 

"No, let's go out. You don't mind, do you Lex?" 

"Not at all." Lex pulled out his cell phone. "Let me see what's playing." Their waiter returned and asked after their meal. "Was it all right?" 

Isis smiled. "It was lovely." 

Eyes cutting from the waiter to Isis' messy, albeit full plate, Lex agreed. "Yes, delicious. We'd like the check now, thank you. You've barely eaten, Ice," he said when the waiter had gone. 

Her eyes danced over his face. "I wasn't that hungry." 

* 

Friday, Dec. 20 

"Chloe, get up. We're here." 

"Lana, can't we circle the school or something?" 

"No, Chloe. There are other people behind us waiting to park." 

"Losers. Let'em squirm. Show me your dark side, Lana Lang." The car jerked to a stop. "Hey!" 

"You said you wanted to see my dark side." 

Chloe cracked an eyelid. "Not against me!" 

"Most people sleep at night you know." 

"Well sleep lost to studying for my Spanish midterm." 

Lana tossed Chloe her messenger bag from the back seat. "I thought you had finished that around 11." 

"Eleven forty-five actually. Then I couldn't sleep. Hey, so you're still spending Christmas with Nell and Dean, right?" 

Lana made a face. "Don't remind me. I'm starting to think its all more trouble than its worth. I mean I love Nell, but Dean . . ." 

"Yeah." 

"And Charlene still hasn't got the whole closing thing yet. On top of that--" 

"Lana!" 

The girls turned. "Hey Whitney." 

He kissed his girlfriend soundly, nodding vaguely at Chloe. "Yo, so Lana I gotta run to class but I'll see you at practice, okay?" 

"Actually Whitney--" 

"I'm running late, baby. So I'll catch you later, right? Great." 

Chloe held the door for Lana. "Have I ever told you what a gentleman your boyfriend is?" 

"It's over." 

"Jeez, Lana, I was just joking. No reason to kill our friendship before it learns how to walk." 

Lana turned to Chloe. "No, not our friendship. Me and Whitney. It's over. I just don't know how to tell him yet." 

"You don't look too happy about it." 

A flash of earnest brown eyes, rain-soaked blond hair and damp black clothes across Lana's vision. "I'm not." 

* 

Martha ruffled her son's hair. "When's your last test, Clark?" 

"The 23rd. Right before Christmas Eve!" He looked up at his mother from the textbooks littering the kitchen table. "Why do they always do that? We should have the whole thing off." 

"What 'thing?'" 

"You know, the entire week of Christmas." 

"Christmas is only one day," Martha reminded him. 

"I mean the week that Christmas is in." 

"Much better." 

Clark ducked his head. "Lex is always telling me about that, too." 

"About what?" 

"Being clearer with what I say. Chloe too. She's always saying a good reporter has to make what they're saying totally clear." 

Martha smiled. "Maybe you should listen to your friends." 

"Yeah, but then she says they, reporters, also have to be subtle. That you have to be able to give your opinion and your point of view without seeming to." 

"She's right." 

"But," Clark frowned, "isn't that a contradiction?" 

Martha laughed. "You're going to find out a lot of things are contradictions, least of all being a journalist. And you're sure that's what you want to do with your life, sweetie?" 

"Yeah!" Clark's face lit up. "It's like from the moment I said it out loud . . .I don't know, it just feels right." 

"As long as you're happy, son." Martha got up and kissed Clark's brow. "Gonna go fold the laundry." 

Clark started to rise. "I'll help." 

"Nuh uh. Someone still has a history test to study for." 

"Ooh." 

Martha grinned. 

* 

Late Monday, Dec. 23 

"Pete, you didn't have to see me off." Sitting on the edge of the uncomfortable orange plastic seats, Isis turned to look at her cousin. "I'm a big girl. And, besides, I know you had a game today. You must be exhausted." 

"Hey if you and . . ." Pete succumbed to a yawn. "If you and Luthor can handle it, so can I. Speaking of the devil, where'd Baldy go?" 

"_Pete_! I'll have you know he's getting us all overpriced coffee. But I guess it is taking a long time. You sure you'll be okay if I leave you here to go check on him?" 

Pete sat up straighter in his chair. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just, you know, minor pain in every muscle I posses." 

"Thanks for not making me feel guilty, bro," she said sardonically but she was up on her feat, scanning the surprisingly sparse crowd at Metropolis International. She'd wandered these cavernous halls before and her feet took her to the coffee-shop while she continued her visual scan. 

Apparently everyone's going to DC, she thought as she ran into the thick milling crowd surrounding several Washington-bound gates. 

"Hey Bald Man," she said as Lex stepped away from the condiment island. She kissed him full on: slippery and sweet from her lip gloss. "You come bearing coffee? Why LL, this must be love!" 

He let her take the tray from him. "Actually, no." 

"I know," she said with a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's, uh, heavy petting and ...um . . ." 

"Business dealings." 

"Oh yes, business dealings. And dinner and dancing and beating you at Joe Madden Football." 

Lex moved to block Isis. "That's only because I got a conference call from our Hong Kong investors." 

_Sigh_. "Excuses, excuses. If it will soothe your male ego to think so," she said, forcing him to walk backwards. 

Lex hand on her chest kept her from landing another quick kiss. "I thought you wanted to keep this from your cousin." 

"And I thought you wanted to keep it from everyone. But you're right, I do. But Pete's gotta find out eventually." 

"Why? I have to admit, it's nice having someone's opinion of me change for the better for once." 

"Lex turn around before you run into someone." 

"The airport is nearly deserted." 

"Not if you're going to DC." 

She giggled when he narrowly escaped falling over a yellow Samsonite suitcase. "You could have warned me," he growled. 

"I did." 

Lex snorted. 

"You know you're cute when you're annoyed, Lex." Carefully balancing the coffee-tray in her left, Isis wrapped her right arm around Lex's waist and drew him in for a kiss. 

They came up for air. "Isis . . ." 

"What Lex?" 

He motioned behind her. He heard her soft smile when she said, "No worries. Pete's asleep. I guess I subconsciously want this all out in the open?" 

"Or maybe you really are the Ice Princess--" Lex took the tray from her hand and placed it atop her luggage. His hands encircled her waist. "--inscrutable, unattainable," he drew her closer, "daring, outrageous, rash." They were hip to hip. "A hellion with fiery hair." 

"You forgot 'haughty,' 'snobbish,' 'cold'--" 

Lex shook his head. "I didn't forget." 

"I thought we were talking about the Ice Princess." 

"We are." 

"But--" 

Lex's deep chuckle vibrated the air between them. "The people who called you cold didn't know you. Maybe you were out of reach and too hot to hold, but rarely cold," he purred. "Although I do remember you being scathingly polite once." 

"My South showing." 

"Besides, I wasn't talking about the old Ice Princess. I didn't know her. Well." 

Isis smiled. "I tried to make sure not many people did. But you think you know me now?" 

"Maybe a little better than before." He rocked on his heels into her. "Maybe I want to know you a little better still." 

Pete wasn't sure whether it was the flight call or Isis' trilling laughter that woke him. 

Isis embraced her men in turn at the gate. Pete noted that Lex also got a cheek-kiss but couldn't, for the life of him, see anything other than friendship between them. He was never gonna hear the end of it from Clark. 

"Hey, so the 27th guys. Look for me." 

"I'll have Enrique bring the car around."  
Both cousins rolled their eyes at Lex. "You're sweet," Isis said, patting his cheek. "Okay guys . . .I'm off. Thanks for staying up with me. Play nice on the way home." 

"I'm always nice," Pet scoffed. 

"You're also gonna be out like a light, Pete." 

"Exactly." 

Isis laughed, gave them both a final hug goodbye before sprinting down the gate. 

* 

Wednesday Morning, December 25th, Christmas Day 

"Dad!" Chloe said with a yelp. 

"Hey, Merry Christmas sweetheart. Looks like you were having a bad dream." 

Their eyes met. Gabe watched the tears pool in his daughter's eyes, but was still surprised when she launched herself at him. "_Daddy!_" He enfolded Chloe, calmly stroking her hair. "It's all right, sweetie. Chloe, it's all right. Shh, baby, shh. Shh . . . 

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked as she pulled away. 

The twisted body flashed behind her eyes. Wiping away tears, Chloe shook her head. 

"Are you okay now? Do you want me to get you something? I'd offer to make you breakfast . . .but we both know how that would turn out." 

Gabe smiled at his daughter's water laugh. "Okay, well you just come downstairs whenever you're ready, baby." 

"Dad?" 

Gabe turned back to the bed. "Yes, Chloe?" 

"Can we call Pete?" 

If he thought it was strange that his daughter ask if _they _call her best friend, Gabriel Sullivan didn't say so. "Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me go get the phone." 

Chloe was on her knees in an instant. "Can we . . .can we call from the kitchen?" 

"Of course Chloe. Of course." 

* 

Christmas Evening 

"Isis, you're up. Get the door, would you?" 

"Sure thing," Isis said, leaping over gifts, wrapping paper, and her young cousins playing on the living-room floor. 

"It's probably your Aunt Carolyn and Sam." 

"Probably Dad," she called from the hall. "_Coming!_ Jeez, when'd you guys get so impat-- Lex! What are you doing here?" she asked closing the door behind him. 

"I was--" 

The doorbell rang again. Isis indicated Lex should just drop his pea-coat, skull cap and scarf onto the settee as she went for the door. "Aunt Carol! Uncle Sam!" The women snickered as they embraced. "It's amazing how that never gets old. Everyone's in the living-room, and. . ." 

Why had he come, Lex wondered as they bustled away. What _was_ he doing-- 

Oh yes, he remembered now. _The message had been waiting for him on his machine, one of many on Christmas Eve. One of the few he didn't erase after noting the name of the caller for a Thank You note. "Hey, so I'm here. Plane landed okay. Actually I'm waiting for the bus that'll take me into the city proper. I know you're wondering why I didn't take a cab. Actually the grandparents offered to send a car around, but hey!, I have a reputation to maintain after all. Woo! Cold breeze in bad places! Anyway, before I get cut off, I just wanted to say one--"_

_She hadn't bothered apologizing in the second message, just speeded through: "Lex... it's beautiful. Maybe I just missed my city more than I thought, but there's this moment on the plane when you're landing, and you either have to be watching the whole time or know what to look for, but the whole city just spreads out before you and I thought to myself, 'God Lex should see this.' You have got to see this, Lex."_

Isis had a left him a message. And his father had somehow gotten wind of LexCorp. Which, of course, Lionel decided to bring up, albeit obliquely, over dinner. A dinner of at least fifty. Lex scarcely needed both hands to count how many attending had been family in any sense of the word. Not that there wouldn't have been gifts for all. 

Lex had ordered anything with his name on the packaging shipped back to Smallville. The servant, the first he ran into after excusing himself from the table, look confused but repeated the order coherently. And that was enough. 

"Sorry I had to abandon you, Lex. Here, give me your coat and I'll hang it up." Isis took the coat, stuffed the scarf in a sleeve and snatched Lex's skullcap from his head. She looked at it in her hands then back to Lex's now bared head. "I thought you already . . ." She glanced at the settee, at Lex, and back at the scrap of cotton-silk in her hands. "I'm tripped out obviously. So how did you get here. Especially through the snow!" 

"I met a pilot who was missing Christmas in Gotham with his family because his employer needed to be at my father's party in Metropolis." 

"Wow. I hope they pay him well." 

"I paid better." 

Isis snorted. "Oh yeah, my grandparents will positively _drool_ over you. That is if you ever have the misfortune of meeting them." 

Lex chuckled. "Am I that bad?" 

"That rich. C'mon, time to meet the nice part of my Michael's half. You know they're probably going to think we're in a relationship or something, with you being here for Christmas and not with LL Senior." 

"He wouldn't appreciate you calling him that." 

"I know," Isis purred. She gave him a quick kiss then pulled him into the living-room. "Hey, look what Santa left on the doorstep." 

Conversation stopped. Malcolm Ross stood. "Lex, this is a surprise. Are you visiting with us?" 

"Yes sir, I am. Isis left me a message that said I had to se Gotham in winter, and here I am." 

Isis turned to Lex and hit him. "That is _not_ why you're here." 

An enigmatic smile was her answer. 

"Oh don't believe him," she laughed, joining her family. "He could charm the spots off a leopard. 

"Anyway! Introductions . . . You know Dad." The men shook hands. "You sorta met my aunt Carolyn and her husband Samuel." A cafe-au-lait woman with blond-brown curls shook his hand, smiling broadly, before letting a slim, prematurely white-haired, man clasp hands with Lex. On her own Carolyn was an inspiring beauty with her flawless skin, natural highlights and bright hazel eyes, but together the couple was absolutely striking. 

"This is my uncle Jackson, or Jack . . ." Although he was fairer and his hair red, it was clear that Jack and Carol were siblings. "And this is his wife Susanne. Who somehow got the nickname Suli. It was never properly explained to me," Isis said with a shrug as they greeted each other. 

"And of course assorted cousins," she said, squatting them. "Okay, maybe only two. Kalil and Mercy, Uncle Jack and Aunt Suli's twins. The baby's sleeping, isn't she Suli?" 

Isis stood and took in her madly grinning family. "And now that you officially know both sides of my family you might want to propose." 

"_Isis!_" Her family cried, surprised and mildly outraged. Carolyn laughed. 

"Oh he's not even blushing people!" Isis walked up to Lex. Pinched his cheeks. "See, he's fine." 

Malcolm Ross stood. "Why don't you come over here, Lex, where it's safe?" 

"Only if you promise to protect me from your daughter, sir." 

"I'll do the best I can." 

Isis gaped as Lex stepped over her cousins and joined her father. "Traitor!" 

"What can I say, he offered me a better deal." 

Even Isis laughed. "Okay anyone want anything before I sit down, because-" A cacophony of voices went up, the shrillest from the twins. "People. People! YO! I only have two hands folks!" They laughed. "And my head's starting to hurt." 

Suli pushed her soft body from the love seat she shared with her husband. "I'll help. Come on sweetheart." 

Requests followed them out. 

"Vultures!" Suli cried over her shoulder giggling with her niece as they searched through cabinets and the oversized refrigerator. "He seems like a nice boy." 

Isis snorted. " 'Seems' is the operative word." 

"He's not a nice boy?" 

"He's . . ." Isis turned and was unsurprised to find her aunt leaning against the counter. "He's a Luthor, you know? I mean, as much as he tries to deny it . . . But he _wants_ to be one: Wants to be his father's son, make his mother proud. Which, you know, if I was just hanging out at his swank mansion --- Oh God, Suli, you have _got_ to see this place. It's a freakin' castle like Gram's --- then maybe it wouldn't matter." 

Suli's eyes twinkled. "He's still got it?" 

"That boy couldn't lose it if he rolled around in cow manure. Yeah Lex is fun! No denying it." 

"But you aren't just 'hanging out.'" 

"No, I've actually been helping him get out from under Lionel Luthor's thumb. Who's a prig I might add. Anyway, working with Lex and . . .and he's ruthless, y'know? He's manipulative, he's--" 

"Isis, honey, he's a businessman." 

"I know, I know but . . . Like sometimes we'll go out to dinner and it'll all just bleed over. It's like college all over again, but instead of watching him be a rich and arrogant bastard from afar, I'm right there in the middle of it." 

She pushed her braids out of her face. "So, yeah," Isis sighed, "Lex is a nice boy, but he's got this other side and . . . Let's just say I don't have any illusions." 

Suli sighed. "Sweetheart--" 

"No, don't say it. I know. I'm an idiot." 

"You are not an idiot." 

Isis laughed. "You're just saying that 'cause you like me." 

"Maybe." They picked up their laden platters. "So are you going to tell him?" 

"_No_." 

They were just outside the living-room: "Have you slept with him?" 

"_Aunt Suli!_" 

* 

Isis' voice preceded her. "_Aunt Suli!_" 

"May I ask how you did that, Mrs. Michaels?" 

"Did what, Lex?" 

"Make Isis blush." 

Isis whirled on her aunt. "Don't you dare. Don't you _dare!_" 

"Well . . ." 

"_Aunt Susanne!_" 

It wouldn't be until much later, although well past midnight, that Lex would ask Isis herself what her aunt's offending question had been. 

There had been a moment when, bundled up, the aunts and uncles and cousins had been prepared to leave. But what had started out as light snow had intensified into an all-out blizzard. "We have more than enough room for everyone," Malcolm Ross declared as his in-laws -- although he had long ago ceased to think of them as such -- struggled out of their many layers. 

Lex watched the process with hooded eyes, sipping his eggnog. The children tried to engage him in conversation, but he still wasn't very good with the 7-13 year old set. Actually he seemed to get along best with those about 15 and up. Preferably if some form of violence was the premise of their relationship. 

"Where are you going?" 

Lex turned to Isis' father. "I should probably get going. You have enough work to do, getting your family settled in. You shouldn't have to worry yourself with entertaining company." _And I feel about as comfortable here as I did in Metropolis_. 

"When I said I had room for everyone, Lex, I meant everyone. We'll have to find you something to sleep in, but I'm not letting you out this house in that weather." 

There was humor Lex's voice when he said, "Yes, sir." 

"So Dad read you the riot act?" 

Lex turned to Isis, standing in the living room doorway. "Something like that." 

"Hey, things are still busy down here, why don't you come up with me. I want to show you something. And leave your coat," she added, amused. 

They were looking down at the residential block, directly into Gotham's sky scraping heart, from Malcolm Ross' top-floor office. "Daddy likes to keep his work as far away from the family stuff as possible. His room and mine are on the second floor. Or is it the third? Brownstones still confuse me -- as if I haven't lived in one for nearly a decade. You'll be up above us in one of the spare bedrooms. Which is one floor below this. Duh. Anyway, at least Aunt Carol and Uncle Sam's kids aren't here. We'd probably run out of space if they were. And I guess DeeDee and Russ are with their father--" 

"Whoa, wait a minute -- who are all these people?" 

"My other cousins." Isis cleared books from the low, crowded windowsill and sat. "DeeDee and Russ are Suli's kids from another marriage. They're, like, Pete's age. Maybe older? And Carol and Sam have three girls together -- one twin and one not -- but Carol has another child by her first husband. 

Lex stared out into the swirling snow. "Sounds complicated." 

"You wouldn't believe. Mom's the only one who was only married once. Course she was the only one who married the person she wanted in the first place." 

"Your aunt and uncle . . .?" 

"Married who my grandparents wanted. Two unhappy unions for Aunt Carol. Only one for Uncle Jack." 

Isis hastily moved more books from the sill when it looked like Lex wanted to sit down. Resting his elbows on his knees Lex admitted he didn't understand. 

"Understand what?" 

"How you stand to be the sole inheritor of, supposedly, everything." 

Isis rubbed her arms. "Oh. That." She stood. Walked away. Came back. "You want the long version or the short? Wide-screen or sized-to-fit your basic household model?" 

Watching her pace between the window-seat and her father's desk, Lex said, "Whichever one you feel comfortable telling me." 

"How about bold-faced lies?" 

"I have enough friends who lie to me as it stands." 

"Ah. Well if you want the news brief version you're gonna have to give me some time. I mean, really," she stopped her pacing, "how do you condense an entire family history of greed and selfishness and pettiness? How do you decide what disgusts you _least_ about your own flesh and blood and compress it into a sound bite ready for the 7 o'clock news? Or giving you one of those explanations that goes something like, 'Oh, well this happened so that's why it's like this,' without feeling like _I'm_ the one I'm lying to?" 

"Your mother died the same year mine did." 

"Yes." 

Lex watched as she stared blindly at the falling snow. He reached out for her hand; her fingertips were ice. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up." 

"What, my mom's death or our strange family politics?" Lex's eyes were as dark as hers in the gloom Isis noticed. 

"Both." 

Isis shrugged. "Doesn't bother me like it used to. I always felt like I had this great responsibility on me, because, you know, everything rests with me. If I screw it up Aunt Carol and Uncle Jack never get restored . . . I always used to try comparing it to someone else playing chess with my life, except I never could figure out which piece I was: Queen, King or Pawn." 

Lex kissed her cold fingers one by one. "Let's see if the rooms are ready." 

* 

Thursday, Dec. 26 

"Good morning, Lex." 

"Morning Mrs. Michaels." 

Suli tched as she handed Lex an empty plate. "Call me Suli. Almost everyone else does." 

"But what if I break your niece's heart? Will I still be allowed to use your Christian name?" 

"Oh Lex, I think we both knew the answer to that." 

"You wouldn't come anywhere near me." 

"Not with a flaming ten-foot pole, young man," she said pleasantly. 

Lex smiled over his coffee mug. "Speaking of Isis, where is she?" 

"Still asleep like everyone else, I suppose." 

Lex glanced at his watch. "Interesting. She's usually up by now. Up and out of the house." 

Suli shrugged. "Well it's been a long couple of days. We've all been staying up very late and I'm sure she's exhausted." 

Spearing food with his fork, Lex didn't bother to mention that there had been nights when he had watched Isis drag herself past his study and yet still managed to beat him out the door the next morning. 

Breakfast lasted all morning, family members walking in and out of the kitchen and dining area. The twins had nearly convinced Lex to go out in the snow with them when Isis appeared still in, Lex assumed, her pajamas. 

"Aunt Isis, we're going outside." "Put on clothes. Lex is taking us to play in the snow." 

"Yes, Isis," Lex said, wrapping his scarf around his neck, "come play with us." 

Their eyes met. She licked her lips. "Sorry guys, but I'm starving. I promise to come out as soon as I finish breakfast, though." Kalil and Mercy made her swear two more times that she would join them before they led Lex away. 

Lex called for the twins to continue pummeling Isis, who had finally made her appearance, with snowballs as he took the call on his wireless. "Luthor." 

"You're a hard man to find," came the ever cheery voice that always seemed to be wrapping itself around a deeper, more powerful one. 

And Lex supposed it was. "Bruce. How are you?" 

"Good, and yourself?" 

"Cold." 

"Huh?" 

Lex shrugged. "Long story. So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? If it's another trip I have to decline. It's no fun being abandoned for an old bald guy with a sword when you _could_ have been hanging out with a young bald guy with a yacht and several women." 

Bruce laughed and Lex's skin prickled the way it sometimes did when he didn't have the man's face to put to his disembodied voice. Like there was another person on the line laughing at Lex. 

"You're never going to let that one go, are you?" 

"Never." 

"I don't understand why you were so upset with me, Lex. You got all the beautiful women to yourself." 

"I don't speak a word of Japanese, Bruce. Or I didn't." 

"How was I supposed to know that Japan was the one country in which you hadn't gone to school?" 

A snowball hit the back of Lex's knee. He turned to see the tide had changed -- out of his favor. Mercy had teamed up with her cousin to attack her brother. But Isis hadn't forgotten that Lex was still in the game if that wink was any indication. 

"Bruce, much as I'd love to catch up -- _ow_ -- on old times--" 

"Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, just, ah, slipped on something. So if this was just a pleasure call . . ." 

"Not at all Lex. I'm throwing a New Years party and you're invited." 

Lex dodged a snowball. "Where at might I ask?" 

"Wayne Manor. Have you ever been?" 

"No, I don't--" he dove for cover "--think so." 

"Lex?" 

"Everything's fine. Look, Bruce, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I really must go. One thing . . ." 

"Sure." 

"Am I allowed to bring guests or is this going to be a small event." 

Bruce laughed. "Black tie. Big affair. Photographers, media more than likely, fireworks...the whole nine yards. Invite whomever, just clear the guest lis with my secretary. Who absolutely could _not_ reach you at either your Metropolis or Smallville numbers." 

"You could say I've gone into seclusion." 

"Having fun?" 

"Surprisingly." A snowball flew over the hedge Lex was crouched behind, grazing his skullcap. "I'll give your secretary a ring." 

"Good. See you December 31st." 

And, as usual, Bruce got the last word. 

"NOW!!!" The snowballs fell. 

Malcolm Ross asked who won when they piled into the foyer, eyeing Lex in particular. He glared at Isis. "I'd rather not talk about it." 

Laughing, she raised her hands defensively. "Turnabout is fair play," she said as she and the twins stripped off their wet outer-layers. 

Malcolm handed Lex a towel as he tramped upstairs in his wet sweater and slacks after the twins. "You've been invited to a New Years party, Isis." 

"Oh? Who by?" 

"Bruce Wayne." 

She snorted. "What, is Gotham's Prince Charming trying to find his Cinderella before the stroke of midnight?" 

"_Isis_." 

"Oh Daddy, as if you weren't thinking the same thing. Or something similar." 

"Actually I was wondering if Alfred hadn't put him up to this." 

"The butler?" She leant on her father's arm and pealed off her socks. 

"Alfred's been more involved in Bruce's life than many would believe." 

"And how come you're privy to such personal info, Dad?" 

"A lot of our early recycled products were purchased by the Wayne household. I used to do the deliveries myself. I still handle the old accounts, Wayne's included, personally." 

Isis looked up at her father. "I didn't know that." 

Malcolm Ross laughed. "No one expected you to, dearest. You know Alfred still asks how you are when I get a chance to talk to him." 

"He does not!" 

"_Yes_ he does. Isis, why are you blushing?" 

"Daddy, what do I do if I see him there?" 

"Say hello, you ninny. Say _hello_!" 

* 

Mrs. Kent offered Chloe a plate of muffins. "Are you all right, dear? You don't look like you've slept well." 

Chloe rubbed her eyes. "It's that obvious, huh? I borrowed some of Lana's concealer to hide the circles from Dad." 

"I was actually talking about your bloodshot eyes." 

Chloe frowned. "Oh. I didn't realize it was that bad." 

What Chloe needed was a glass of warm milk while she waited for Clark to come back from his chores, Mrs. Kent thought, and not the cup of coffee she had been about to offer. 

"I don't think they were red this morning." 

It was Mrs. Kent's turn to frown. "Have you been getting any sleep at all?" 

For a moment it seemed as if Chloe had clammed up, but then she sighed and shook her head. "None last night, although I kept drifting off." 

"Then why didn't you lay down and get some rest?" 

_A coffin. Awake but immobile. First Clark Then Peter Then Daddy And Lana Mrs. Kent Lex Everyone walk past View her. In the coffin. Awake now. Can't see much past the green light. In the earth. **But I'm alive!**_

"Mrs. Kent, have you ever had a dream that you keep coming back to?" 

"You mean a recurring dream? Everyone has at least one of those I think, sweetie." 

Chloe shook her head fervently. "Not exactly . . ." 

_In the earth. **But I'm alive!** Heart: Pounding. Skin: Clammy, feverish. **Let me out!**_

" . . .More like when you wake up from a dream n the middle because, like, you have to go to the bathroom or . . .the alarm goes off, or you wake yourself up, but when you drift back off a few minutes later _you're right smack back in it._" 

_feverish. **Let me out! **Clark save me! Dirt clods falling over you legs._

Mrs. Kent's face closed as she searched her memory. "No. No I don't think I have." 

_Dirt clods falling over your legs. Over your legs Over your chest Trickling onto the window Let hysteria descend_

"Well that's what it's been like for the last two nights. Except they're nightmares. Not dreams." 

Concerned, Mrs. Kent took Chloe's hand. "The same one?" 

_Trickling onto the window. Let hysteria descend But a face. Savior? Kinsman-redeemer? **Mother?** has the shovel And the dirt ready to bury you. **Mom? Mommy?!**_

Angry, Chloe brushed a tear from the corner of her eye with her free hand. "No." 

* 

He can't Watch Chloe. She's actually slept more but he still can't Watch her . . .the way he Watches _her_. He doesn't know what the difference is and he's _pissed._

Because he wants to know what it is she sees. 

* 

Trying to do something as friends when they were, if not a couple per se, actually dating was harder than they had first thought. It wasn't just Pete they were hiding their relationship from, Isis realized, the thought crystallizing, but the whole world. It was the publicity. While Isis didn't mind most of the home-media attention she received, even encouraging it at times, she also enjoyed her relative autonomy outside Gotham. Being Lex's date-of-the-week would end that. Quickly. And she suspected that, although it never came up, Lex was still feeling the sting of Des'ree's betrayal. Or maybe just his heart's. If what they had, or didn't have, fell through she was sure he didn't want it to become the public spectacle of his erstwhile marriage. 

Isis imagined it would take very much indeed to induce Lex Luthor to propose again. 

"Friggin' epitome of 'Once bitten, twice shy.'" 

"What was that, Ice?" 

Sitting in a wing chair in Lex's room, she shook her head. "Just letting loose a brain-fart." 

"Ah." He looked up from his laptop into her saccharine smile. "Uh huh. How about a show?" 

Isis made a face. "I don't know. I don't want to make a scene. I've kinda gotten used to the low-key life." 

"Yes, Smallville will do that to you." Lex stood suddenly. "Well while you try to figure out our plans for the evening take a look at this for me and tell me what you think." 

"Ooh, jewelry," Isis commented appreciatively, tracing a snaking S on the velvet covered box. "Who's it for, Lex?" 

"Open it," he called over his shoulder from the secretarial in his guest-room. 

"...Oh . . .my . . .good Lord, Lex! This had better be for Lana because I think it's a little too bold for Mrs. Cauldhaume." Lex could see her picturing it encasing Lana neck. "Although I think it's a little bold for Lana too." She looked up at him. "Chloe? Some faboo employee I don't know? Long lost sister?" 

"No. You." 

"_Me?! _Lex, are you toying with me?" 

"Isis, when have you known me to play around?" 

She snorted. "A lot more than you'd like people to believe." 

An amused smile on his face, Lex approached Isis in her seat. He plucked the choker from the still open box. "Don't you want to try it on, Ice?" 

She hesitated. But Lex had heard that note of wonder in her voice; he'd seen the desire in her eyes when he'd said it was hers. "Come on, Isis," he purred, folding and pocketing the gold-lace cage. The box snapped shut as Lex took it from her dead fingers. Isis' eyes made the slow journey from her empty hands, up Lex's body, to his changeling eyes. "Tell me you don't want to," Lex drawled. 

Isis gnawed at her lower lip, trying to bite away a smile. 

"You can't." 

She shook her head. 

Lex took Isis by the hand and pulled her up from the chair. Looking her in the eye he forced himself to remember that, without her wedge-heels, Isis was actually more than a few inches shorter than he. Walking backward he led her to the mirror over his dresser. Lex slipped around her, fishing the choker out of his pocket. 

Her eyes were laughing when they met his in the mirror, pulling her braids from her neck. "I told you you wanted to," Lex murmured into her neck. 

"You know me so well," Isis answered, but he couldn't be sure whether she was sarcastic or sincere. 

Lex fitted the gold-lace cage around her neck. "Too tight?" 

He felt her swallow under his fingers. "Closer." 

"Like this?" 

She nodded minutely. 

Lex fastened the choker. Looking at them in the mirror he was struck by how well Matthews had chosen. There had been two other items suggested by the butler which Lex now saw would have also suited. But this was _his_ favorite. 

"Lex, it's gorgeous. These aren't imperial topazes are they?" 

"Golden citrines on the body, imperial garnets on the drops." 

Isis turned around. "Imperial garnets?" 

Lex shrugged. "New stone. Apparently they thought they were imperial topazes. Although," he fingered a short drop, "it seems they are equally rare." 

She nodded absently, fascinated by his creamy fingers against her cinnamon flesh. She looked up to catch his eyes in the mirror and found he was already there, waiting for her; she felt his weight settle more firmly on her shoulders. Against her back. "Lex?" 

"Yes?" 

"What are you doing?" she murmured. 

Lex slipped the third button of her red dress-shirt. "Your shirt wasn't showing off your jewelry to its best effect." He traced his thumb down the center of the gold-lace cage, down the longest drop, until the backs of his fingers brushed the insides of her breasts. "There are matching earrings -- long like this one." He toyed with he long drop, fingering her redgold braids over her left shoulder. 

Isis leaned into him, tipping back her head. "You're still not getting any." 

Lex burst into surprised laughter. 

"Am I interrupting something?" 

Lex felt Isis' pulse jump under his hands as they turned. The smile never left her face he saw from the corner of his eye in the mirror. 

"No, Aunt Suli. Apparently I made a funny." 

"I see. I was just looking for Kalil. He has the baby and I want to feed her." 

"If we see them we'll send them . . ." 

"To the kitchen." 

"Kitchen. Right-o, Aunt Suli." 

"You know you two look cute together." 

"Thanks Aunt Suli. I think." As soon as Suli was gone Isis turned in Lex's arms and bumped her forehead against his shoulder. She gripped his sweater in her fists and held herself close to him, letting out a shaky laugh. 

Lex felt a fine tremor rise from her like buzzing electricity. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah. For a second I thought it was dad. I think. I don't know." She laughed again, self-deprecating. "See Lex, I'm not nearly as in control as you think I am." 

"Neither am I," he whispered. 

Isis smiled. She turned back to the mirror. "Aunt Suli's right," she noted, taking in her red dress-shirt, charcoal kerchief-style skirt and matching boots against Lex's charcoal sweater and gray slacks. "We're starting to do that couple thing." 

"Heaven forbid." 

She chuckled, fingering her gilt-lace cage. "Let's go out to that show, Lex. Daddy gave me the perfect outfit to go with this. You two didn't plan this, did you?" Lex shook his head, his smile vaguely patronizing. "Doesn't matter -- it's perfect. I want people to be unable to speak to me." 

Chuckling, Lex kissed Isis' hair. 

* 

Friday, Dec. 27 

Chloe could feel herself rising from unconsciousness. But, _God_, if Pete wasn't trying to pull her back! 

And he stank. Chloe was sorry to say it, to even think it -- she dashed the tears from her eyes -- but it was _true_. There were going to be scars on her ankles . . . 

And Clark just stood there! _But then he had turned and a piece of his face was missing_. 

She'd be damned, though, if she let either of them keep her here. Really damned. Stuck in a world as real as Alice's Looking Glass . . .but so much more terrifying than anything Carroll had envisioned. Besides, she couldn't save them anyway. It wasn't fair of them to keep her with them. 

**_Daddy?_**

He didn't seem to hear her. 

**_Daddy?!_** Chloe kept climbing toward consciousness. _Knowing that you are dreaming and unable to wake_. She could see him on her left. Talking to someone else? 

**DADDY**! 

"Yes sweetheart?" Gabe turned to his daughter. 

Chloe nearly sobbed with relief. 

"Darling, what's wrong?" 

"I dreamed, I dreamed I was climbing and . . ." 

* 

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" 

Isis shrieked. Awake. Hand over her heart. 

"Ma'am, are you all right?" 

She nodded. "I'm fine, thank you. Could I have a glass of . . .of apple juice." 

"We're out." 

"Do you have orange juice?" 

The flight attendant nodded and left. 

Isis felt her heart trip under her hand. Her throat closing. She rubbed her left hand against her thigh to dry the sweat. Closed her eyes. 

Her heart raced. Her breathing was shallow again. And she hadn't even gone back to sleep. Just the images. Behind her eyelids. 

What she really wanted to do was drop her head between her legs. 

What she really wanted to do was curl up into a ball. And maybe cry. Instead she stared into the middle space in front of her chair, focusing on her breathing, trying to bring down-- 

Her orange juice swung into view. It felt like home and her mother who had always given her orange juice when she was upset or had to swallow some noxious medicine. 

Isis sipped her drink and missed her mother. "Thank you." 

Lex stepped around her. "You're welcome. Are you okay?" 

Be a wide-eyed innocent. "Yeah, fine. Just had this wiggy dream. I can't even remember what it's about now." _Climbing Blood Stench Bones Blood Scars Climbing **See me!** Stench Grabbing Bones Scars **Let me GO!!**_

"Good." 

"Lex, where are we, do you know?" 

"We're circling Metropolis International." 

* 

Dedications: of course to all my faithful readers and those ppl who review. You have no idea how much your reviews mean to me, and not just the "oh this is wonderful" ones, but the ones that ask questions and the ones that ask me where i've been all their fanfic-reading life....although I will admit that the latter has been more of an ego-boost. lol. 


	19. New Year

Dedicated: Auroris for making me get it in gear, Darlene for asking the best questions, and wahintoe for reviewing every chapter.

§§§

New Year . . .Same Old Me

§§§

Monday, Dec. 30

Chloe threw her arms around her father's neck. "Thank you Daddy!"

"Chloe, let me put down our bags at least."

The sprightly blond released her father, grinning madly. "I'm gonna go help…someone!"

Lana and Gabe watched Chloe bound out of the room. "Hey, I was the one who said you shouldn't let her have the double espresso on the plane."

Gabe sighed.

"Clark," Pete called down the hall, "pretend that stuff's heavy. Chloe's coming… And she's hyper."

"Hey guys!"

"See."

"Pe-ete!"

"Wha-at?"

Chloe giggled. "So hey, where's your stuff?"

"Oh, Clark's already brought the last of it in. Right Clark?"

Confused, Clark asked, "Right what?"

Pete slapped his friend on the back. "Nothing, man. Hey, where's Lana?"

"Helping Dad unpack. God, I can't believe we're in Gotham City! Where's Isis?"

"With Lex getting extra room keys," Clark told her.

Isis watched Lex from the corner of her eyes as he paced behind her, while the hotel manager finished activating the last of the swipe-card keys. "Thank you, Mr. Parchester."

"Our pleasure, Ms. Ross. Please extend our best wishes to Mr. Luthor and his guests."

"I will, thank you," she said flashing a pleasant, if unconsciously dismissive, smile.

"No, Dad, I will not be home for New Years Eve," Lex was saying very carefully, as if trying not to yell, as she approached. "I'm certain my secretary, Mrs. Cauldhaume, told you of my plans."

Silence save for Lex tapping his foot and the sound of blood rushing in Isis' ears. The lobby was nearly deserted.

"Dad, in the last eight years we've spent two New Years Eves together. I need not remind you that they were both disastrous.

"I seriously doubt that they will improve, Dad. We don't seem to mix well when in forced company. Especially if there's alcohol," he added sardonically. Lex looked up and at her and his smile was grim. "You know most families find excuses other than major bank holidays to get together."

Isis ran a comforting hand down Lex's arm before turning to sit in the wood and wrought-iron bench so close at hand.

"What is this really about, Dad? More often than not you have your own plans."

Lex's voice had dropped to a fierce whisper, "She's dead, Dad. You can't use Mom against me. It doesn't work anymore," he said with livid stillness.

"Look, I've got to go. If you had wanted to spend time with me you should have let me know a little more in advance, as it is I've already committed myself and my time to very important associates.

"I could care less if you like them or not." _Snap_.

Isis wrapped her arms around Lex's back, touching her forehead to the back of his skull before pulling away. "And who won that round?"

Lex slipped his silver wireless phone into his trouser pockets. "God only knows and probably cares less." He stalked toward the elevator bank, Isis watching him with quirked brows. "Someone sounds unhappy," she said to the potted plants drolly, following after.

Gabriel Sullivan was waiting when the elevator doors opened. "I was starting to worry. I didn't think spare--"

Lex pushed past him.

"--keys . . . Was it something I said?"

"Something Lionel Luthor said," Isis explained. 

"I see now." Their eyes met and she saw that he did understand, and probably better than she. Isis took his arm and stepped out the elevator. "Shall we?"

Gabe bowed graciously.

"Oh, before I forget . . . The keys!"

"Well Chloe and Lana are in your suite."

"Then lead on good sir!"

Three hours later it was sometime after ten and the boys had gone in search of food. Lana rolled here eyes, licking her fingers. "You mean Clark went to hunt down Lex and told Pete it was a food run so he'd go with."

"Basically," Chloe agreed, Isis nodding. "You know sometimes I wonder about that boy."

Isis broke off a piece of chocolate from the oversized bar sitting in the midst of them. "Which boy, Chloe?"

"Clark," she and Lana answered. 

Chloe turned to Lana. "You too?"

"Hey just 'cause I'm not interested doesn't mean I'm blind."

Isis flopped onto her stomach. "So who _are_ you interested in Lana?" She offered the chocolate to the other girls.

Lana, blushing, refused.

"She's not interested in anyone right now," Chloe answered for her, snapping off a brown brick.

Frowning Isis turned over on her back. "Yeah, I heard about the breakup with Whitney."

"Well he seems to be taking it well." Chloe turned to her roommate. "You broke up with _him_ Lana, not the other way around. Get over it."

Lana took the silver-wrapped chocolate from Isis and bit off a chunk. "You're right, Chloe," she said around a full mouth. "I'm the low-life bastard, why am _I_ still moping over _him_?"

"I dunno."

"Nope, no clue."

"You guys!" Lana tossed a pillow at her friends.

Lex caught it. "Something personal against me, Miss Lang."

Clark and Pete spilled into the room they shared with Isis. "Look who we found," Pete said with quirked brow.

"I wasn't hiding Mr. Ross."

Pete clapped his hand on Lex's shoulder, "Dude if you call me 'Mr. Ross' again I'm gonna sneak into your room and super-glue a wig on that bald head of yours while you sleep." When he smiled Lex finally saw the family resemblance.

"Can I help bro?" Isis slid silkily from the bed. "Someone's got to take pictures."

"Hey--" Clark stopped and flushed as he found himself under the sudden intense scrutiny of five pairs of eyes. Three of whom looked much better in plaid boxers than he did, in his humble opinion. "Uh, I was just wondering why Isis calls Pete 'bro' all the time. Jeez, what's with the killer looks?"

Chloe scooted to the edge of the bed. "Done anything to warrant a killer look, Clark?"

"Uh . . ."

"Yeah, Clark," Lana joined in, "been doing anything naughty we should know about?"

"No, I un . . ."

"Chloe and Lana are right, Clark," Isis said. They watched Clark visibly restrain himself from pulling away as Isis invaded his personal space. "You and Pete and Lex were gone a long time. Anything you want to share with the girls?"

He shook his head once, quickly, in sharp negation.

"No?" Chloe had joined Isis, mimicking her intense scrutiny. When Isis raised her hand to near-caress his jaw, Chloe did the same.

Clark imagined he felt their hands on his feverish skin. He imagined they were blessedly cool. He couldn't stop the involuntary flinch when they raised their hands to eye level.

"I don't bite, Clark."

"I might," Chloe muttered.

Chuckling, Isis abandoned Clark to the petite blonde. "Or maybe I should be asking you, Lex. Have you been corrupting these fine young gentlemen?"

Lex didn't seem to mind the invasion of personal space at all. "Why would I tell you if I had?"

"To gloat." She turned to Pete, who had perched on the arm of a chair, and winked.

"Do you think so little of me, Miss Ross?"

"Sometimes." She circled him a if he were a sculpture done in the round. "What do you think, Lana? Would Lex, ahem, kiss and tell shall we say?"

The girls laughed at Pete and Clark's outraged cries.

"Just a figure of speech boys. Relax. So what do you think, Lana, being his business partner and all?"

The brunette unfolded herself from the bed. "I think . . ." They had Lex sandwiched between them, as close as they could come without touching. "I think he would."

"Do you, Miss Lang?" Lex nearly purred.

"Maybe not in so many words, but you'd let us know." Lana cocked her head from side to side, examining Lex with bird eyes, as if that would reveal his mystery. "Yeah. He'd let us know. Somehow."

Isis turned away from Lex. "Then what about my bro, Pete? Would you give us ladies a play-by-play if you guys had had . . ._fun_ without us? Hmm?" She circled around the chair until she could kneel in the seat and hug her cousin around the shoulders.

Chloe abandoned Clark with a smirk. "Nah. Pete would never tell."

Pete smiled suavely, hands resting on her hips as she stood between his legs.

"Yeah, Chloe's right," Lana agreed. "Pete may be a lady's man, but he doesn't talk about the ladies."

An acknowledging hand to Lana's hip, who was standing on Pete's left side.

Isis whispered, "That's my bro," into Pete's ear after a quick kiss to the temple. The four of them were grinning wildly. "Don't I know it," he murmured back.

Lex nudged Clark. "Explain to me how Pete just got all the women, including his own cousin?"

Clark could only shake his head and shrug. 

"So," Pete clapped his hands together, "who's up for a game of _Monopoly_?"

"NO!" Clark and Lana shouted together. "You've obviously never played with Lex," Lana explained quickly.

Several game choices later, Pete was dealing out _Uno_ cards. Isis surveyed her room. "Okay, this just isn't going to work here. Obviously the Gotham-Hilton never had any intentions of letting six of its guests play _Uno _in a bedroom.

"Sitting room anyone?"

"_Sitting room!_"

Isis took another look around as they filed out. Eesh! What a mess, she thought moving a chair.

"Hey Ice…"

"Yeah Pete?"

"Are you playing?"

"Of course. Deal me a hand. I'm just trying to straighten up a little. Me and Chloe and Lana are pigs," she said with a smile. "Call me when you guys figure out what the house rules are gonna be."

"Okay." Pete tapped the doorframe on his way out. "Deal Isis in, Lex."

Lex acknowledged him with a raised brows. "So what special rules do you generally play with?"

"What do you mean 'special rules?'" Chloe asked.

"Like Stacking for instance." Lex picked up the deck and hunted around for cards. "Say Lana put down a Red 1, the next person could put down either a red card or a 1--"

"We know that, Lex."

"Yes, but if that person has more than one of either of those cards…say for instance three 6s, he or she could put them all down assuming that at least on of those 6s is red and is the first card put down."

Chloe grinned. "Cool." Everyone else agreed. Lana asked if there were any other special rules they should know about.

"Well there're Pile-ons which is similar to Stacking--"

"I know that one," Clark interrupted. "That's when you do it with command cards, right?"

Pete shook his head. "No, that's when you stack with Draw cards."

Lex shrugged. "I've heard it used for both, but I think Mister-- I think Pete has the idea. Let's say Clark puts down a Yellow Draw 2. Now I would have to pick up two cards unless I have a Draw of my own. If I do I can then throw that down and make Lana pick up four."

"Do you still have to pick up?" Lana asked.

"No. Matter of fact let's say you have a Wild Draw 4, Lana. Now you can make Chloe pick up eight _and_ change the color. Although come to think of it, I have played where you still had to pick up, so I would have gotten two and you, Lana, would have gotten four while Chloe got eight."

With narrowed eyes Chloe asked about Stacking Pile-ons.

Lex nodded. "Go for it."

Chloe dropped three Draw 2s onto the pile.

"What did I ever do to you," Pete asked Chloe melodramatically. "Ah, that's all right. Here ya go, Clark." Pete put down another Wild Draw 4.

There was a light shining in Chloe's eye as she began tallying Clark's total pick-up. "I love your house rules, Lex."

"Thank you Miss Sullivan. It is rather nice to see this all come back around, isn't it?"

"Hey," Clark protested, "I thought this was all hypothetical."

Lana picked up the deck. "C'mon Clark, take your cards like a man," she said as she began counting them out.

"Uh, how about I go get Isis so we can start the game for real?" Ignoring their parting comments he dashed out of the room. The peaches and cream bedroom seemed empty. "Isis?" Clark scanned the room with his X-ray vision. There was a lone skeleton slumped in the wing chair Pete had so recently vacated. It was wearing earrings.

"Isis?" he whispered, trying to still his pounding heart long enough to make sure that, yes, her ribs really were expanding and contracting. That, no, his freak alien eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

And they weren't because there she was. Perfectly okay. "Gotham's not Smallville, Clark," he muttered to himself. "Nothing weird happens here." Besides, who hated Clark enough to follow him all the way to Gotham?

That's really selfish, he thought to himself, crossing the expansive room. It's not even like I thought _I _was the one in trouble.

_But half the time it's the people we care about who get hurt, not us directly_, a mean voice reminded him.

_Then again if someone were really going to attack Isis would it be because of you?_

Clark looked down at Isis slumped in the wingchair as if she had only meant to nap but had fallen asleep instead.

_Or because of Lex?_

"No. That's not fair."

Isis stirred in her chair.

Frowning at his traitorous thoughts, Clark studied his best friend's cousin. Her sunset braids had been pulled back into one tight French braid until he could scarcely tell there was anything peculiar about it at all. He had never seen her in repose, Clark realized. That night she'd spent in the guest room after he had "saved" her…? No he hadn't seen her sleeping. His mom had woken her. And then none of them had fallen asleep on the plane…well except for Lex who had given the impression of being bored to tears by the trip. Besides, when would he have had a chance to see her sleeping but then anyway? It wasn't like she was their age and might sleep over at his house or something. Not that Clark had ever _had _a sleepover, he mused. But it was just that, he supposed, she looked so…vulnerable this way. Like anyone could get her. And he supposed they could. Well at least whatever dreams she was having were probably okay, Clark thought. They had had a pretty good day so she should have pretty good dreams. It just made sense.

"Clark, what took you so long?" Lex asked.

"And where's Isis?" Pete wanted to know.

Clark gestured back to the bedroom as he sat. "Asleep. It looks like she meant to sit down for a second and fell asleep."

Frowning, Lana smoothed her hair behind her ear, noting that she hadn't thought Isis looked tired.

"Traveling can be exhausting," Lex said, re-dealing the cards. "At least in my…limited experience."

Chloe pulled her legs up into her chair. "And she didn't sleep on the plane, did she?" No one answered her.

"It still seems weird to me," Lana noted casually.

Lex stopped, counting heads, before he finished dealing. "Would you like to play 7-cards or more?" he asked no one in particular. When no one answered he shrugged, placing the deck in the center of the small breakfast table and turning over the top-card. A Wild Draw 4. He put it at the bottom of the deck and flipped over the new top-card. A Blue 1. "We'll start with 7 cards and work up from there." He turned to his left. "You start Lana."

"This isn't a board meeting, Lex," she said, putting down a Blue 3. "Relax."

Chloe dropped two 3s, yellow and green.

"Again I say, what did I do to you Chloe?" Pete asked as he picked a card from the deck. "Hey are we picking one or until you get a card you can play?"

The consensus was to pick until a playable card was pulled.

"Of course you guys aren't the ones picking up," Pete grumped.

Three cards later he dropped a Yellow Skip. "Sorry Clark."

"Sure you are. Your go, Lex," but Lex was already putting down several cards.

"_Uno _pickup Lex!" Lana cried.

Chloe pulled back from her roomie. "Excited much, Lana?"

"That's only because you've never played anything with Lex before," she said with a smile as she plucked two cards from the deck and slid them to Lex.

"Very nicely played, Miss Lang," Lex said. "I don't think anyone else realized I had Uno."

Lana smiled appreciatively at Lex, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as everyone else gaped in shock.

"But we just started--" "That's impossible." "Lex how'd you…" "You sure you weren't cheating Luthor?"

"I assure you I wasn't Pete. Check for yourself."

Pete picked up the discard pile and counted off the top six cards. They were all Skips. Pete asked how many were in the deck.

"Eight," Lana said, reading the back of Chloe's battered box. "Two of each color."

"And I played one…"

"Which only leaves one more floating around," Lex finished. "Somewhere. Unless one of us wants to admit to having it?" Looks passed around the small circular table, but no one spoke up. "So, who's go is it?"

§§§

Tuesday, Dec. 31

Lex saw her lips moving as he rounded the corner into the nearly hidden conversation corner, but he could scarcely make out the whispered words.

"I…you…right way. I want you…me too…"

The silver ear buds flashed in her ears as Isis swayed with her reflection in the night-dark window. She turned back for a notebook left in one of the seats and saw Lex. She pulled the tiny speakers from her ears.

"You're up early. Or should I say late?"

Isis smiled. "Early. My body clock is, apparently, still set to Kansas gotta-go-to-work time."

Lex crossed the inconsequential distance between them. "Me too." His arms circled her chenille tuniced waist. "Funny thing about body clocks, huh?"

"Yeah." She stepped on his shod feet with her bare ones and brushed her lips across his. "Funny thing. So what kind of man wears shoes at 4 a.m.?" she asked.

"You want to help me get out of them?"

Isis pulled away from Lex. "Only if you're coming swimming with me."

"Isn't the pool closed now?"

She picked up a fluffy white towel and a bright orange-red scrap of spandex that had to be an as yet unseen swimsuit. He wondered if, unlike the other two suits he had seen, this one was a two-piece.

"I'm not averse to breaking and entering. Are you Lex?"

With a bow that hid his small smile, he said, "Lead the way."

§§§

"So what happened to the boys, Isis?" Lana asked. "I thought they were spending the day with us." She held a green-shimmering, pink blouse to her chest. Chloe made a face.

"Ice told them we were shopping and _poof_ they were gone," Chloe answered. "I think Clark and Pete went with Dad sightseeing. I have no idea what happened to Lex," she said, looking pointedly at Isis.

With a roll of her eyes Isis told them that Lex had gone to speak to Bruce Wayne about business. "But just because I'm practically his personal secretary doesn't mean I know every step of his itinerary."

Lana pulled out an ice-blue cat-suit. "I don't know."

Chloe and Isis urged her to try it on. When Lana disappeared behind the dressing curtain, Isis jumped up and plucked what looked like a burnt orange rag from a rack. "This is so you, Clo."

Eyebrow up in disbelief Chloe shook her head. "I don't think there's enough cloth there for it to _be_ anyone but Christina Aguilara."

"That's because a hanger doesn't do it justice. Your body, however, will do wonders for it."

Chloe frowned. "I'm pretty sure I don't wanna expose that much flesh."

"You won't. Oh Lana!"

Chloe turned. "Hey, there's a sex kitten under all that pink after all."

Lana surprised them all by clawing the air and letting out a growl Eartha Kitt would have been proud of.

The girls laughed. "Lana, help me convince Chloe to try this on. It'll bring out the gold in her skin," Isis pleaded.

"On one condition."

"What?"

"Tell us if you and Lex are an item."

Isis tossed the dress to Chloe. "Hurry up and try it on, Clo. I might as well break it to you both at the same time."

Lana flashed Isis a bright smile, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Hurry up, Chloe!"

Laughing, Isis beckoned her over and made her sit. "Do you have a pony-tail holder and brush in your bag?" Lana fetched them for her. In moments Lana was sporting a high ponytail. "Go check yourself out," Isis said.

"Wow." She turned back and forth in the mirror. "I do look hot."

"Now all you need is…" Isis came over and lowered the Lycra cat-suit's zipper until it was between her breasts. "Add a little body glitter and, _voila!_, one vamp at your service."

Lana giggled, twisting her hands together to keep from pulling the zipper back up.

"Okay," they turned at Chloe's voice, "I don't know what you meant by not showing any flesh, Isis, 'cause right about now I'm half naked."

"Bet Clark'll notice you now," Lana teased.

Chloe flushed as Isis threw a metallic sheath over her head. 

"I think I'll try this on," Lana said to no one in particular.

"It'll work, Chloe! Just maybe something darker." Isis frowned, casting around for the same dress or another in the same color family.

"Isis, Chloe, I'm going to try this on," Lana said holding up a shimmering, bronze beaded dress.

"That's it! That's your color Chloe." With a not-so-subtle nudge she commanded her to, "Go look!"

Chloe turned, catching the edges of the gold mesh dress to keep from tripping over it. "Lana get back in here!" she called. "Isis is trying to get out of telling us about Lex."

"Hey! Yeah. C'mon Ice…"

The sunset-haired woman smiled, chagrined, a flush creeping past her cinnamon skin. "There's not much to tell."

"But there's something," Lana pressed.

Isis tugged on a braid. "Maybe."

Chloe and Lana pushed her back onto the low couch. "That's it, spill everything!"

"Off the record, Chloe?"

"_Isis_."

"I'm joking, Clo. I know that you wouldn't… I was just joking. See, Pete's not the only Ross who likes the taste of toe-jam."

Through their laughter, Lana and Chloe almost missed Isis' "We're dating."

"What?!" "Did I hear you right? Dating?"

Isis nodded. "A little."

"How do you date 'a little?'" Chloe asked.

"By not dating a lot? I don't know! We just are."

Lana looked at her slyly. "Have you two…"

"Have we what?"

"You know!"

"Oh come on, Isis!" from Chloe. "She wants to know if you and Lex have had sex. Done the wild thing. The forbidden dance. The vertical lambada. Jumped the--"

Through a haze of laughter induced tears Isis begged her to stop. "No. To all of the above."

"Really? I would have thought… I mean it's Lex, and its you! I mean if I were a man or a lesbian I'd be trying to get in your pants."

"Um, thanks Chloe. I think."

Lana frowned. "Is Lex not…" how to put it nicely "…good?"

Isis snorted. "Hardly. No, they're my issues. But trust me when I say Lex is trying valiantly to overcome them."

"And is it working?"

"More than he knows. Oh would you guys change already," she said, pushing them off the couch. "I'd like to try something on too!"

"I thought you knew what you were wearing, Isis."

"I do, Clo. That's never an excuse not to shop."

Lana raised her hand for a high-five. "Amen sister! Hey, Chloe, try this one on. It's the right color, but it might be tight." She handed over the tiny dress. "Besides," she whispered, "there's a lady over there who was eyeing it before."

"_Lana!_" Chloe and Isis cried, surprised.

"Hey, I practically had to fight her to get to the aisle with this dress. I just know she saw me looking at it."

"I say there's nothing like some good catty vengeance," Chloe said, taking the bronze number into the dressing room

§§§

"Chloe, sweetie…"

"Yeah Dad?"

"Do you want something from room service? Or do you think Lana might want something?"

"Um," she bit her lip, "probably not, Daddy. For both of us. We ate out with Isis." Chloe sat down in front of her laptop. Staring at it blankly. The girls had relocated to Isis' room -- forcing the boys to choose between rooming with Gabe Sullivan and Lex -- but Chloe had hauled her I-Mac into her dad's sitting room. Mostly from guilt, Gabe suspected.

There was a knock on the door. Chloe jumped up.

Gabe stood. "I've got it, sweetheart."

"Did you call room service already?"

He turned to her, his hand on the doorknob. "No…" He opened the door.

"Hi, I have a package for an…an Isis Ross?"

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong room. Isis is--"

Chloe slipped between her father and the door. "She's out Dad. Can we sign for it?" she asked the deliveryman. 

"Uh, and you are…?"

"Gabriel Sullivan."

The deliveryman scrolled through an electronic list. "Yeah, sure. She's got you down as someone to sign for it. Right here, sir. Thank you." He slung a garment bag into Chloe's outstretched arms. "Happy New Years Eve."

"Happy New Years Eve," Gabe said as he closed them out. "What's that Chloe? Any idea?"

Chloe had walked into what had been her room, and what was now Pete's. "I have an _idea_, but it's not possible."

"What sweetie?"

She had unzipped the bag. "Ohmigod. She-- I can't believe Isis did this!"

"Did _what_, Chloe?"

"The dresses, Dad. The dresses from this morning. Isis _bought_ them. I have to find Lana."

§§§

Isis slipped her key-card into her suite door.

"Ice--"

She turned.

"--I'm glad I caught you."

"Lex… How did everything go with Bruce?"

"Very well. It's all set, but that's not why I wanted to see you."

"Oh? Well whatever it is, Lex, I was taught not to have conversations in the hall. Besides, these bags are getting heavy."

Lex took the garment bags and held the door open for her. "I don't need a lot of your time, just letting you know the hot water's out in rooms four hundred through four-thirteen. Where do you want these?"

"Uh, the couch is fine," she called absently from her room. "So why are you telling me--" Isis stuck her head out the door. _"No."_

He nodded. "Afraid so."

"I'm 412!"

"And Gabe's 413."

Isis stomped her foot petulantly. "But I want a shower! A _hot_ shower. Bastards."

The corner of Lex's lips curled in a smile. "Which is why I've come to offer my facilities."

She pointed, coming toward him slowly. "You're in 415."

"I'm in room 415."

"You have hot water."

"I have hot water."

"Lex stop echoing me!" she said, slapping his arm playfully

"Lex stop--"

"Oh!"

Lex caught Isis' wrists. Pulled her close. Held her as she struggled.

A long, long time ago Isis had learned to control the completely rational fear of being held captive. She reasoned with herself: it was something like claustrophobia -- except it was triggered by being held immobile. Which she guessed made it more like one of the a-phobias. Isis could never tell which was which. Or maybe more like paranoia. And by this point she felt herself walling up that part of her that wanted to fight Lex's gentle grip. Focused on the rise and fall of her chest she felt her heart slow its wild fluttering.

And when she opened her mouth there was Lex, sweet on her tongue, breathing in tandem. 

His hands slid down her forearms, up to her wrists, pulling her arms over his shoulders. "What were you trying to tell me this morning?"

Breathe. Breathe Breathe breathe "What about this morning?" breathe breathe

"In the pool."

She shook her head. Breathed in. Breathed out. "Nothing."

Lex's hands slid up and down her sides. "It seemed like something this morning."

Oh God oh God oh God…just make him stop. Because it was just like claustrophobia.

"Or at least it did until you dove under the water and swam for the shallow end."

Thank you Lex for letting me laugh, she thought as she pulled out of his embrace. "It didn't seem like the right moment."

"Yes, I can see how admitting to mass murder while topless can be difficult."

"Would you stop being flippant, Lex?"

"Then why can't I get a straight answer from you Isis?" he snapped.

She became a whirlwind of motion -- picking up things, putting them down. Never staying in one place long. Then she stopped. Turned. "Y'know, I knew, I just _knew_ this whole thing wouldn't work out," she said conversationally. "I guess if I was looking for a relationship based on something other than sex--"

A sound of disgust erupted from Lex.

"--then I should have known better than to turn to good ol' LL."

"Why do all our problems boil down to sex for you, Isis? Can you answer that?" he replied in kind.

Blindly she flung the white towel she'd picked up. "Because _every_ relationship boils down to sex in the end, Lex! Forgive me if every experience has left me with a dire need to look for something more."

"Well how am I supposed to play your little game if you won't even tell me the rules?" Lex demanded.

"Game? You think this--"

"Yes! And frankly I'm tired of jumping through your hoops, Miss Ross." Lex felt his muscles loosen, relaxing as she tensed.

"This is not about me turning you into some…some trained boyfriend-puppy dog. You don't understand, this, my life--"

"Then make me understand, Isis," he countered. 

A darkly amused noise escaped her. It was something like a laugh because it kept coming. "You want to understand? Okay. Take a seat Lex." Isis paced in front of the couch, unconsciously swinging her hips aggressively, roiling with angry, tense energy. She stopped in front of Les. "My first time was with the first guy to notice I was coming out of my ugly stage. We dated for a few weeks before he convinced me that if I really loved him -- which like an idiot I thought I did -- and if I really appreciated his attention I'd let him screw me. It was short, unamusing and he never spoke to me again. He zipped up his pants and told me that the door would lock behind me so he didn't have to walk me out."

Pacing. Again. "A year alone because, if nothing else, he'd opened my eyes when he opened my legs. Then college and Metro U and Gunther--"

"You and Gunther were a nauseatingly cute couple."

"He tried to rape me."

Lex brought his right ankle up, resting it on his opposing knee. "Bull."

Iced chocolate eyes bored into his. "Yes," she said calmly. "He did."

"Why would Gunther Fitzroy rape--"

"He didn't. He tried."

"…Gunther was a friend of mine."

Isis scoffed. "I thought you said Clark was your first and only friend."

A careless hand flicking away her comment and "We understood each other then," reminded him of Lionel.

"An understanding? You mean an understanding between _addicts_? The speed demon and the alcoholic: I can see it now."

"That's still not the Gunther that I knew. Know. Explain to me why--"

_"I don't know why!"_ she howled. Rubbed her forehead and winced. "But what about how?" Isis pulled his ankle from his knee and, resting her palms on his knees, stood between his legs. "Maybe if I explain _how_ you can tell me who's right. Maybe you can fix my peculiar paranoia.

"There had been a party. We were all there. You probably don't remember. God knows there were lots of parties. That's the only one I remember clearly. I could walk you through every moment." Her voice was hot. Searing. So far from ice. "But I won't. I'll skip to the end.

"Gunther's daddy had given him his own apartment in Metropolis. That's where we ended up. I'd been there before. We all had. It was cool. It wasn't a dorm room. I'm sure you remember it. We, Gunther and I, hadn't slept together yet, but we had clicked so fast. . . I would have. Really. I believe it to this day. But he was drunk. We both were, and I didn't want . . ."

_"I don't want our first time to be when we're drunk."_

"C'mon, sweetie." He walks toward you. "We're in love right?" You nod, backing away. This is a fun game you think. Let's see how long I can go without falling on myself. But he's still talking. Your boyfriend. What's he saying? "What'sit matter if we had a lil to drink. Trus' me, alcohol never hurt sex."

You giggle. "You can barely stand up straight," you tell him, but then you wonder if it's your vision that's wobbling, not his legs. "An' I can barely see straight. You gonna bang my belly-button, Lover-Boy?"

"I was teasing him, of course. Unless there's something sexually inviting in that. You're the experienced one, Lex. You tell me. But anyway, we're still circling around his apartment. I was too drunk to notice that we'd circled right to the couch. You remember the one, holds three lying-down comfortably? Four if everyone's thin? I'd never been much of a drinker before college but Gunther obviously was a better alcoholic than I was, because the next thing I remember . . ." Isis sucked in a shaky breath. "The next thing I remember besides the back of my knees hitting the couch . . ."

_Can't breath. Can't see. Too much hair. Too much skin. Too much sweat. LET GO! "Gunther, let me go!" you say. And some part of you is thanking God that your 'Lover-Boy' has had so much to drink, because you're starting to think that maybe he's serious. Maybe this isn't a game._

"Just one more kiss, baby."

"You smell." Oh yeah, real smart, you think. And even though thinking is becoming a little easier you can't figure a way out of this one. You know it's bad, but not how---

"He grabbed me again."

_"I said let me go! Said I didn't want our first time drunk!" You cross your arms over your chest. Righteous indignation never hurt anybody, did it? "I am . . . I am so really angry at you now! Call me a cab. I'm going home." And foot-stomping. That worked the last time you used it too._

But then time seems to go slow, like it has to make up for it's sudden jumps and leaps before by spreading itself thin now so, instead of missing things, not knowing how you got from here to there, you get to watch yourself die piece by piece. Because you know that the hulking monster rising up out of the post-midnight gloom, pulling back his hand slowly and so surely, has no intention of letting you leave alive. 

It speaks but you won't know what it has called you for another four weeks. Surprisingly that_ will be the straw that breaks your vengefully long-suffering back. But it's now and all you hear are e l o n g a t e d syllables. _

And the sound of heavy flesh connecting with your own.

Now the monster has a face. A name. Now your vision swims even more, although you'll swear you've never seen more clearly. Now you know what they mean by predators can smell fear because you smell it: yours and his. It's coming so thick, so full-bodied and multi-textured you might get drunk again if you don't stop staring at him. Oh and yes, that's the same look of horror you're sporting that you see on his face. But don't worry, there is ice forming in your veins as remorse fills his eyes. You'll get through this. If only you'll get up.

"I'd fallen, you see. Back on the couch. He was so, so tall above me. Immense. He had finally moved into the light. And while one part of me was so, so . . ." Isis dug her palms deeper into Lex's knees, "so _furious_, I could see that he was still aroused. He could have done it right then."

_But he won't. Because all Lover-Boy can see is the rage and not the fear. He doesn't know you're the rabbit caught in the headlights. But every rabbit moves some time, or it dies._

"I remember levering myself up slowly , inching around the coffee table. He turned to follow me, just like we were still doing that stupid game of cat-and-mouse, but when I started to actually back away from him he didn't move. I guess Gunther watched me with his eyes. The light was behind him then so I really don't know, but I backed down that hall. I took one step back at a time until I knew he couldn't see me in the shadows, then I ran. I was four blocks away before I realized I had left my purse by the door. All my cash. My ID's. My gloves. It was cold that night. We'd taken a cab back to his place . . ." Isis' voice trailed off in a whisper.

Lex watched Isis come back from the dark place inside herselft. A place as tied up in her sensuality as it was with her sensual fear. He felt her push up on his knees. "Gotta go shower now. Tell Chloe and Lana the coats in the bag are a loan," she gestured to the garment bag beside them. "And make sure to check the door when you leave."

A sudden desperate urge to call her name, pull her back and let her see the dark places within surged through Lex. "You can't get in my room without me," he reminded her, rising slowly.

"How right you are. Lead the way, LL."

"Lex."

The right corner of her mouth lifted. "Lex."

It's a good thing he didn't go far because, in her haste to be clean, Isis forgot a towel. "And I don't really do bathrobes as drying devices."

Lex slipped into the humid heat of the bathroom and knew he was going to be red when he left, even if he got out right then. Sweat beaded along his upper lip, across his brow and between his shoulder blades. 

"Just drop it on the sink or the toilet. I'll be out in a few," she called over the acoustic roar of water on tile.

The towel went on the sink-edge -- he got the closed toilet seat. "Why did you tell me that story, Ice?"

"Because you said you wanted to understand why all my issues boil down to sex." She didn't need to add the "Duh, you idiot." It came through loud and clear.

"Is it true?"

The sound of the water changed as she stopped moving. "Why would I lie?"

"Sympathy."

"Ha! If I wanted sympathy I could have gotten a shrink and a lawyer, instead I nearly flunked out, went back home and started all over again."

She was moving again. He could tell by how the sound of the water changed: softening as it hit her flesh, rushing when she cupped it to pour over her--

"They don't you know."

Lex shifted on the toilet seat. "What don't-- doesn't."

A high pitched tattoo of water on tile. "Boil down to sex. My problems."

She can't see him smirk, but its as much about him as it is about her, "Oh."

"Yeah, just the ones that concern relationships. Because, you know Lex, I thought that we both didn't want something serious."

"Sex isn't necessarily serious."

Water off. Which is a shame because he still wanted to climb in with her under a cascade of steam, kneel at her feet and confess. Let her be his Madonna.

"For me it is," she said. "Towel please?"

Lex was standing at the foggy shower door with the terrycloth waiting for her when she got out. "You know you'd never think so with the way you act. Sex looks pretty casual on you."

"Funny that." She left his almost stiff embrace. "It seems like every time something tragic happens to me I become fascinated with it. My mom dies and I have a death wish, visit cemeteries and start digging fast cars. Fast anything. I nearly get raped and what do I do? Become a sex kitten." She rowred at Lex's outline in the fogged mirror. "Having taken one psych class, my official diagnosis is it's a coping method. Don't worry Lex. When we get to Smallville I'll move out--"

"And what is with your threatening to leave every time something gets hard?" he said gripping her shoulders and giving her one fierce shake from behind.

She winced, gingerly touching her hairline. "That's one. I think I got _that _from being lost for eight hours in a mall when I was four. Now I don't get lost, I run."

Lex wanted to tell her to stop running. There was enough darkness in his past that he wasn't afraid of hers. Instead he said, "No more talk of moving out. I extended my hospitality as a friend, not a lover. If worse comes to worse we'll just find you a nice cell in the dungeon."

"Ha ha Lex. Get out of here. And bring me an extra towel too," she called as Lex slipped out.

"I heard you talking to Isis."

Lex turned to Peter Ross, standing just inside the doorway. "Yes. She forgot a towel for her hair. Might I ask how you got in here?" He plucked a towel from a pile the maid had left at the foot of the bed.

Pete twirled a nondescript white card between his index and middle fingers. "Clark gave it to me. Wanted to let you know that he'll be up for the shower later and thanks."

"He didn't have to do that," Lex said, thinking that the Rosses had an uncanny knack for appearing when he didn't necessarily want them.

"That's what I told him."

"Would you--"

"Lex, sometime today please!" Isis called through the door.

"Would you like to give Isis her towel," he said, offering Pete the terrycloth in his hands. "She's quite decent, I assure you."

"Jeez, Lex!" Isis stuck her head out the bathroom door, wet braids dripping. "I'll just get it my-- Pete. What're you doing here? Have you showered?"

"Yeah. It's only Clark left."

"Oh. Okay." She looked between the two men. "Are you guys just gonna let me drip all over the place or will one of you kindly hand me a towel?"

Pete strode across the room, took the terrycloth towel from Lex and handed it to Isis.

"Thanks," she said before slipping back into the bathroom.

§§§

They had just checked their coats. "I still can't believe how good the guys look," Lana said.

"_I_ still can't believe you bought these dresses for us, Isis," Chloe said. "Excuse me, make that an entire outfit lest I forget the lovely shoes on our feet."

Isis shrugged. "They looked good on you. Think of them as belated Christmas gifts."

"I think Dad nearly had a heart attack when he saw it on me," Chloe said, finger the choker-like neck.

Lana rolled her eyes. "That's because she showed it to him without the overdress. I mean, look at it: it's one-shouldered--"

"A shoulder that comes up and wraps around my neck!"

"Which brings me to my second point of it being backless. And short!"

Chloe made a sound. "Because yours isn't?" she said, fingering Lana's rose-gold fringe.

Lana raised her bare arms and swung her hips, setting the beaded flapper-dress dancing. "At least the fringe makes it _look_ longer."

"Until your first spin," Clark interjected.

Isis looked up from her purse. "Jealous Clark?"

"No. Just feeling protective."

The girls snorted as one.

"Well since you're so conscious of what I'm wearing, Clark, you can tell me if my hair's come out of the ponytail."

Chloe leaned over the whisper in Isis' ear: "And you know this is going to be, like, the high point of Clark's night."

Isis meowed.

"Am I being catty?"

"A little," Isis said, more than a bit amused.

"It's just that--  
"Don't stomp your feet in heels, Clo. You'll twist an ankle."

"Ha ha, Isis." They had moved ahead of Clark and Lana. "I'm in this great outfit -- I'm practically naked for heaven's sake -- and he _still_ doesn't see me."

Pete, Lex and Gabe slowly came to a halt in front of them as they encountered the receiving line. The din of the crowd rose from the sunken ballroom in shimmering waves of heat. Isis ran a hand down the smooth, flat face of her chain-main shirt. The metal, warm from her body, had a green-gold shimmer that sparkled in the twinkling lights --

"Are you sure that thing's gonna stay on right?" Pete turned and asked, eyes lingering on Chloe's body in its glowing sheath.

-- complimenting Chloe's yellow- and Lana's rose-gold.

Isis made a face and ignored her cousin. She turned to Chloe. "You know just because Clark needs another set of eyes, or two, doesn't mean everyone is so deficient."

Chloe rolled her eyes as she passed Isis to stand beside her father. They were almost ready to be announced. She turned and mouthed a "Yeah right," missing Pete's appreciative once over.

"Excuse me, Lex," she said as she slipped by, threading her arm through her father's.

Lex tapped Chloe's shoulder. "You know, Chloe," he murmured into her ear, a hand coming to rest on her left shoulder, "if I were Gabe I wouldn't have let you out of your room with that outfit on."

"Good thing you're not Dad."

"And if you were with me, Chloe, in that outfit, I don't think we would have made it out of the room regardless."

Chloe turned to stare at Lex, mouth agape, but he had already moved to the head of their little party.

Oblivious to the exchange, Pete and Clark debated where and with whom Clark should stand. It was obvious the big brunette wanted to stand with Lana, but Pete saw the way Chloe had been looking at Clark since they had landed. Just because she didn't love him didn't mean he would let Clark trample Chloe's heart with his well-meaning, if clumsy, feet.

Isis put a hand on both their elbows. "You're both my guests, so you can both escort me in," she said looking from one to the other, Pete on her right and Clark on her left. "Besides," she went on a she threaded her arms through theirs, "Lana has been taken care of and Lex can handle himself." 

The boys turned their attention to the party in front of them, about to be announced. "Mister Alexander Joseph Luthor of Metropolis, Kansas; heir to the Luthor Estate and heir apparent to LuthorCorp," a slender white-haired man in black tails and white gloves called to no one in particular. Lex started down the stairs, greeting those who had congregated there as he went. "His guests, Mister Gabriel Sullivan and his daughters Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang, of Smallville, Kansas."

Lana frowned and turned to Gabe. "He misunderstood."

"Who did?"

"That guy. The butler/announcer guy. He called me your daughter when he should have--"

Gabe cut her off with a paternal smile. "I told Lex to tell him that. We consider you part of the family, Lana. Isn't that right, Chloe?"

"Yup. All we need to do now is fight over the bathroom in the mornings and--"

"We already do."

Chloe shrugged. "See, it's official."

Behind them: "Miss Isis Madeleine-Michelle Ross of Gotham City; heiress of the Michael Estate, heir apparent of Ross Recycling and Michael's Manufacturing. Her guests Peter Ross and Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas.

"You look quite lovely, Miss Ross," the slender, white-haired man said.

Isis blushed, unaccountably embarrassed and shy. "Why thank you, Alfred. You're quite handsome in your tails. Much more so than any man here."

"Even you fine young escorts?"

She smiled impishly. "Especially them."

Gabe Sullivan was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. He offered Isis his arm, which she took slipping from between Clark and Pete, and led them to their table where Lana and Chloe waited.

Frowning at the smooth expanse of Isis' milk-chocolate back -- a shade warmer than Pete's own complexion -- Clark asked his best friend if he was sure her top was going to hold up.

"That's what I asked," Pete said, exasperated. "She _says_ the straps will hold it up fine."

"You mean the spaghetti straps over her shoulder blades and the…the glittery chain connecter-thingy?"

"Isis says the glittering chain connector-thingy is the key to holding it all together," but it didn't sound as if Pete took her word for it.

Clark rolled his eyes in an Oh Boy gesture.

As soon as they were oriented Isis was off to find Lex, "or Bruce. Whichever I run over first. I'll meet you on the dance floor. And remember, these people have no clue how young you are," she added _sotto voce_ so Gabe wouldn't hear, but they weren't sure if it was an admonition…or incentive.

Pete pulled Chloe out of her seat. "So what're we waiting for already?"

§§§

"Aren't you gorgeous."

Clark turned to the stunning blond just behind him, nearly tripping over his own feet.

She chuckled huskily. "Yes you," she said in answer to his bewildered look. "The best ones never know how pretty they are."

Clark felt a blush rising when a deep masculine voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck: "Don't toy with him, Selina. It's not fair -- he doesn't have the experience we do."

A tall, well-built, dark haired man slid into Clark's line of sight. He held out his hand. "Bruce Wayne. And you must be…"

Clark took the hand, both his dad and Lex's voice noting the good grip. "I'm Clark. Clark Kent."

"Ah yes," Bruce said with an easy smile. "Isis' protégé."

"I am my own protégé," Isis said, coming upon the little group with a glass in hand. She inspected Clark critically. "If he's anyone's understudy I'd say he's Lex's."

"Oh? I thought he came with you?" Bruce turned to Clark. "Sorry to talk about you like you're not here."

Clark shrugged. "Happens more than you'd think."

Isis clicked her tongue. "My manners: Clark Kent this is Bruce Wayne--"

"I've already introduced myself."

"--our host for the evening," she went on as if he hadn't spoken. "And this stunning beauty is Selina Kyle, beloved Social Queen of Gotham. And Devourer of Men," she added cheekily.

Selina Kyle rolled her eyes before moving in for a cordial embrace. "Flatterer. And how is your father and your grandparents?"

"All well. And my namesake?"

"Isis is wonderful. As is my father, thank you for asking," Selina added meaningfully.

"If either your cat or your father were ill you wouldn't be here and we know it. Darn you and your big heart," Isis said with a smile.

The women clicked glasses as Selina took her leave. Bruce and Clark were deep in conversation. "No greeting for me, Bruce?"

He quirked an eyebrow, his bright blue eyes flashing. "And do you have a preference, my dear?"

"Charming of course."

Bruce took her hand in his, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. Slowly he lowered his mouth to them, eyes never leaving hers. _"Bon soir, cherie." _His lips touched her skin lightly, lingering a touch too long.

"Oh yes, now that was good."

"So," he straightened, still holding her hand, "will you be ready at the stroke of midnight?"

Clark looked between them, confused as Isis said, "Absolutely. Bruce, you really are the most charming man on earth." She reached up and laid a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'm gonna find Chloe and Lana, Clark. Enjoy yourself." And she was gone.

The next time she would see Clark would be from a platform looking out over the glittering crowd, standing on Lex's left. Selina Kyle would have her arm in his. She'd sigh. Then she would fall.

§§§

Chloe watched her father dance with Lana. Part of her was overjoyed that Clark was nowhere to be found. The other part of her was busy having itself a pity-party for the self-same reason. The bronze leather dress was short, tight and provocatively cut, while the shimmering gold overdress did nothing to hide the fact. What was wrong with that boy?

And wasn't that Peter Parker from the Daily Bugle in New York? He took all the Spiderman photos.

"Hey Chloe," Isis said, strolling her way. "Everyone abandon you?"

"Eh, kinda. Last I saw, Pete was chasing some redheaded bombshell around the buffet table."

"Well there seems to be a blond bombshell chasing after Clark." Uh oh. "Oh Chloe, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought him up."

"I'm all right." _It's just my heart breaking, right?_

Isis frowned in consternation. "If it makes you feel better, Selina's probably just toying with him to make Bruce jealous. They've had a long on-again, way-off-again relationship for years." Chloe's soft sigh and self-deprecating eye-roll let Isis know that it didn't but thank you. "Hey so where are your dad and Lana?"

"On the floor," Chloe said pointing with the all but forgotten glass in her hand. "Hey Isis, do you know that guy?"

Isis turned in the new direction Chloe pointed to. "Who, Peter Parker?" When Chloe nodded yes, Isis answered, "Only that he gets the most breathtaking shots of Spiderman I've ever seen. I don't know him personally though. You should talk to him."

Chloe flushed. "Me? _No!_"

Isis snorted. "Hey where did Chloe Sullivan, Intrepid Reporter go and who put this shy girl in her place? Obviously…" She plucked Chloe's soda from her hands and switched it for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "Obviously you need something a wee bit stronger, sweetums."

Not knowing whether to laugh or gawk at Isis, Chloe took a sip of her champagne. This was going to be an acquired taste. Apparently one she would acquire while talking to Parker, because Isis was pushing her in that direction.

Chloe would be with Parker when the floor-to-ceiling windows shattered. He would push her to the floor.

§§§

Pete and Clark were comparing notes at their table when Lana found them. "Having fun guys?"

"Pete is. I'm being stalked."

"By that blonde?"

"You saw her too?" Clark asked incredulously.

Lana looked to Pete for help. "Too?"

Pete smiled sympathetically. "We were just talking about it. I asked Clark what it was all about, you know kinda joking about sharing the wealth, and suddenly the big lug is telling me a sob story." Except the look he gave Lana said that Clark didn't know a good thing when it followed him around.

With her eyes Lana agreed.

"At first I thought Isis and Bruce had saved me," Clark said, "but then Selina found me again. I should have stayed with Bruce."

"Well…that's just too bad Clark," Lana said lamely. She took a quick glance around, sending the rose-gold fringe of her flapper dress dancing. Her slightest movement started it going so that she was constantly awash in the crystal music of the beads. "Speaking of being found…uh, Pete, how about you help me find, uh, Chloe! Yes, Chloe!"

Clark rose. "I'll come with you guys."

"No! No, no, you stay here in case she comes here. Looking for me. Right." Lana smoothed a hair behind her ear, forgetting that it was pulled up into a high, and rather tight, ponytail. She slipped her arm into Pete's and they were off before Clark could utter another protestation. 

"Hey, there goes that blond again," Pete said, pointing discreetly. "And she's headed straight for Clark. We gotta go save him."

"Nuh uh." Lana kept a firm grip on Pete's arm. "Clark is a big boy. He needs some undying adoration tossed his way."

Pete grinned. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Well Chloe's always telling me to let loose my dark side."

"You're starting off pretty well."

"Thanks Pete. Hey, I actually see her. Chloe that is."

Pete craned his neck. "Oh yeah, she's standing with…Lex and Isis and is that that Wayne guy?"

Lana tiptoed precariously, still walking. "Think so. Who's the other guy?"

Pete shrugged. "Only one way to find out. Mind if we cut in?" he asked, pulling Lana with him into the group.

Immediately, Isis began introductions.

"Allow me," Lex said, interrupting. "Pete, Lana, let me introduce Bruce Wayne, our gracious host." Hands were shaken. "And Peter Parker of New York City."

A smile lit up Pete's face. "Always nice to meet a fellow Peter," he said as they shook hands. "Aren't you a reporter?"

"Actually he's a photographer," Chloe said.

"Hey, you get all those cool pictures of Spiderman!"

Parker didn't quite blush, but he was very modest about it.

"Those are some awesome shots man!"

"Well my boss doesn't think so."

"Sounds like an uptight SOB."

_"Pete!"_ from the girls.

Parker grinned. "He is. But you didn't hear it from me," he said with a wink to Chloe. "Hey, so you never answered my question, Ms. Ross."

"Isis."

He flashed her a winning smile. "Isis it is."

"How often am I at the hauntingly gorgeous Wayne Manor? Almost never."

There were a chorus of Really?s and You're kiddings, to which Isis nodded. "Really. Gee, I think the last time I was at a Wayne party we were…six?" She looked to Bruce for help.

"I was seven."

"Whatever. And Mr. and Mrs. Wayne had invited my parents to -- well I guess it was a New Year's party then to. All I really remember was how huge everything seemed and how there were so many exquisitely beautiful people. Like I remember wondering if the Wayne's had invited every beautiful person in Gotham, and if I was the only kid."

"Which you weren't," Bruce said with a nod of his champagne glass.

Isis rolled her eyes. "The other thing I remember was a bright blue-eyed boy hiding behind his father's trousers."

Laughter tittered through the group.

"Until Dad maneuvered me behind Mom," Bruce said to the group's further amusement. "It's true. Still can't figure out how he did it. And there was Isis all done up in dark green velvet and taffeta--  
"Behind _my_ mother's skirt." She joined in the group giggles. "The only two children in the room and we couldn't say _two _words to each other."

"I think your parents wanted you to say hello, Isis, and you waved instead."

Isis shrugged. She took a long slow swallow of her champagne.

Chloe raised her glass. "You never told us how your mother died, Isis."

Pete and Lana were instantly shooting daggers at Chloe as the group suddenly quieted -- so no one missed Isis saying, "I killed her," excusing herself and walking away.

_"**Chloe!**"_

"I didn't mean it that way, I swear!"

Lex came up to her, watching Bruce go after Isis, Pete in tow. "We have to work on you foot-mouth coordination, Miss Sullivan."

"Don't I know it," she sobbed, face in her hands.

Bruce caught up to Isis in the long hall of the armory. She watched his shadow stretch to reach hers in the moonlit hall. "You know," she said with her back to him, "I didn't think coming here would be a problem. It's only been, what, fifteen years?"

"Sixteen," Bruce said softly.

"And we've seen each other at so many other functions. You'd think…"

Bruce placed a comforting hand on her left shoulder. "It's all right. I--"

She turned around and threw herself at him. Crying haltingly she said, "Sometimes…I still…think it's my…it's my fault…she's dead," clutching Bruce's lapels.

Stroking her bare back, Bruce held her as he cried, his face hard with determination as he stared at the unending dark. "I know Isis. You want vengeance, but you blame yourself." She nodded against his chest quieting. Bruce managed one more "I know," before Pete tapped him on the shoulder.

Isis looked up as she was suddenly released to find Pete just behind her confidant. Wordlessly she went to him.

Bruce left in the direction of his bedroom to change as the cousins held each other.

"C'mon," Pete said after a while. "We should be getting back. It's almost midnight."

Isis dried her eyes on a handkerchief Bruce must have pressed into her hand before disappearing. "Right, Lex has his big announcement to make."

They walked arm-in-arm back into the ballroom. Lana met them. "Are you all right? If it makes you feel better Chloe's really sorry."

"I'm okay, Lana. And tell Chloe it's all right. Everyone's allowed one."

"But Chloe's had dozens." Lana immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. An "Oh my _God_!" came muffled from her fingers as Isis and Pete grinned at her.

"You know I think Chloe's been a good influence," Pete said.

Lana pinched him.

"Ow! Too good."

Isis laughed harder. "Where…Where are Lex and Gabe?"

"Oh!" Lana cried. "They said to meet behind the dais."

"Okay. Thanks Lana. See you guys at the stroke of midnight."

Lana watched her dash off. "Ice isn't gonna…you know with us?"

"Guess not. But apparently Lex is making some big announcement. Guess we'll find out soon." Pete placed Lana's arm in his. "C'mon, let's go find a good spot."

Indeed most of the crowd seemed to be headed toward the raised platform in front of the two-story windows overlooking the grounds. "Pete, look," Lana said, "there's Clark with that blond. What'd he say her name was?"

"Selina Kyle. It doesn't look like he's enjoying himself."

"He'll get over it. She looks harmless." When Pete shot her a look she amended, "Sorta. Oh, c'mon, let's get closer. I bet Chloe and that Parker guy are up front."

They pushed their way through the thickening crowd. "Whatever it is, I bet it's gonna be good," Pete said.

"_Excuse me_."

Pete and Lana looked up as the murmuring died away. Their host had taken the podium and was tapping it. _"Is this thing on?"_ The answering buzz of laughter harmonized with the feedback whine. Bruce smiled his brightest. _"Well the moment we've all been waiting for is almost here. The wait-staff are going around passing out sparklers and glasses of champagne."_ He glanced at his watch. _"Two more minutes. Hey, does anyone know all the words to _Auld Lang Syne_?"_ He grimaced at some of the choice remarks hurled his way from the crowd. _"See if I invite you next time, Simmons."_ Alfred handed him a lit sparkler as the excitement rose in the room. _"It's almost here -- old year gone and a new year coming. Thirty seconds!"_ In the background the band began a drum roll as the seconds ticked by. Bruce glanced at his watch then grinned at the crowd. _"I hope you like this:_

"Ten. Nine. Eight."

Pete spotted Chloe and Peter Parker as the crowd shifted.

_"Six!"_

And was that Isis standing very close to Lex and Mr. Sullivan near the back of the dais? It was. She saw him too and waved.

_"Three! Two! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_

The beads of Lana's flapper dress hit Pete as she jumped and twirled, waving her sparkler. "Happy 2003, Pete!" Then she kissed him soundly on the lips.

Confetti rained down on them. Lana pulled away in wonder. Pete stared dumbfounded at her, wondering if any of their friends had seen.

As the initial commotion died down Bruce once again took the podium, his face smeared with lipstick. _"Ahem, if I could have your attention for a moment. No, keep playing," _he told the band when it seemed they would stop. _"This is a reason to celebrate. My friend and old school mate -- at several institutions I might add -- Lex Luthor has an announcement to make. Lex?"_

A cheer went up. Most of those gathered knew Lex, and even those who either disliked or were unaware of him were drunk enough to clap for anyone.

_"Thank you, Bruce." _He quickly scanned the crowd and was glad for Gabe and Isis, on his left and right respectively, behind him. _"My announcement is brief, but I believe important."_ Suddenly there were bulbs flashing everywhere as the newshounds in attendance picked up the scent of the story they'd been promised.

Lex went on: _"I have decided to break with my father's company, LuthorCorp--"_

There was a collective intake of breath, followed quickly by sibilant whispering.

_"--and start my own."_

Silence.

Then just as suddenly a roar of applause. Questions were called out of the air: "What's it going to be called?"

_"LexCorp."_

"When will it be viable?"

_"It's up and running now."_

Which caused a terrific stir and begot the question: "So if it's already functioning why wait to announce it now?"

Lex tugged at the hem of his jacket. _"I want a clean break from my father. What better time than the beginning of the New Year?"_

"Does your father know you've managed a small coup?"

Lex smiled. He ignored the Parker fellow tugging Chloe away from the front of the crowd and said, _"If you do your jobs right, he'll know tomorrow mo--"_

The glass behind them shattered. Loudly. Isis watched Parker finally manage to get Chloe on the floor an instant before she was forced down herself.

"Stay down!" Bruce's rough voice ordered over the screams of his guests. But Bruce couldn't keep her from turning her head and seeing what was going on.

Men, clothed in black, were repelling into the house, presumably from the roof, and through the shattered windows. As they touched down they sprayed the air with sub-machine gun fire. Everyone who hadn't already dropped to the ground. Isis covered her head with her hands as bits of debris fell on her exposed back.

"Shut Up!" one of the black-clad men yelled, although it was unnecessary. The entire ballroom had fallen silent. He crunched his way from the windows, up the dais. Isis met Lex's eyes across the floor. Then they were blocked by the man's black boots. _"Very nice,"_ he said, his voice picked up and magnified by the microphones.

Then, for no apparent reason, he kicked Lex. Gabe and Isis let out a cry. The man bent down and grabbed Isis by her hair, pulling her up by the green-gold braids. Shrieking in agony she was hauled up against his chest. She felt the point of the sub-machine gun under chin. Through tears of pain she saw that men masked and dressed like her captor had fanned out among the party-goers. But where was Clar--  
"Let her go."

Her captor spun them around so that they could see that Bruce had risen to his feet.

"Mr. Wayne, don't go doin' anything stupid. We don't want to hurt the pretty lady, do we?" Two masked men came to flank Bruce. "Besides," Isis' captor said, turning, _"this is just an old fashioned robbery. All we want are the jewels,"_ he said loud enough to be picked up by the microphones. _"Starting with this."_ He plucked the tiara circling the bun atop Isis' head.

She struggled in his arms.

"I don't wanna hurt you, Miss Ross," he said into her ear, "but I will, so just you relax yourself." Grudgingly Isis did so. "That's a good girl." She stiffened in his arms as he laughed.

_"Ladies and gentlemen,"_ he began, but Isis quickly tuned him out as something far more interesting caught her eye. She could just make out Clark's broad shoulders as he turned down the hallway that would, she knew, lead him into the armory and from there to various parts of the house. Isis didn't know how Clark had managed to slip out from under their assailants' noses without getting shot -- she could see Selina giving one of the masked men the evil eye -- but she wished him Godspeed. Or faster. Had anyone else seen him? she wondered. Perhaps Bruce, but he was behind her. Isis cut her eyes to Lex, still on the floor beside Gabe. Their eyes met and he nodded ever so slightly. But how lon--

Isis was jerked back as her captor pulled her along as he walked backward. His nylon jacket scratched her bare back, but the indignity of it all was scratching at her pride. 

Personally she'd never understood why the hostage always held the bad guys' restraining arm with both hands on TV. It seemed kind of stupid to her. If both hands were occupied how could she apply her Gotham Girl's Survival Kit knowledge? Surreptitiously, she reached around her back with her free hand. She grabbed and yanked her captors genitals thinking, See you need at least on hand to do this. Immediately he let her go, mouth open in a silent scream. Never one to waste the moment, she grabbed his submachine gun and pointed it at his head.

Something was going on behind her. Her actions had taken less than a minute, during which there seemed to be no sound and no time. Her senses came flooding back to life as she tried to make it look like she handled big guns on a daily basis. What she was hearing was probably Lex, Bruce and Gabe struggling against their own armed guards, who probably already had their weapons trained on the back of her head. She was just so friggin' tired of being the abductee, the bargaining chip…of being threatened. Had Lex been pulled up by his hair -- er, collar? No. Isis had. And why? Because she was a woman and--

Isis heard the distinctive sound of gun safeties clicked off and possibly one magazine being checked. _Why couldn't Chloe have been the heroine?_ But, God, if she was gonna go -- not that she wanted to, mind -- it would be resisting to the last. Isis was not going to turn out of fear. No way. Nuh uh. No si--

"Isis," came Lex's voice. "It's okay, we've got them all covered."

She dared not peak around now that her former captor had recovered. It be just her luck for him to turn the whole thing on them. Motioning him up with the gun, Isis forced him to go before her as they turned…and found Bruce and Lex holding guns on the remaining thugs. Gabe was scanning the crowd. "They've got their guns trained on us, Lex."

"Ice, walk you friend to the podium please."

"Sure thing. You heard Lex. Walk!"

"Gabe, if you wouldn't mind?"

Rising from his covert position on the floor, Isis noticed Gabe Sullivan had the beginnings of a large knot on his forehead. He went to the mic. _"Put the guns down or we shoot your leader and your friends."_

No one moved.

Gabe covered the mic with one hand and, looking back, said, "Lex they aren't buying our bluff."

"Isis, bring the gun up to this guy's temple."

She did a double-take on Lex. "What?"

Bruce frowned. "Are you sure about this?"

"Trust me," he reassured them. "Gabe, go."

Swallowing visibly, Gabe said, _"You have ten seconds then Isis kills him. Isis?"_

She hoisted the weapon, stomach doing flip-flops.

_"Ten…nine…eight…"_

Her former captor's eyes were screwed shut.

_"Seven…"_

A gun hit the floor with a loud metallic thunk.

_"All of them! Six…five…"_

Several more followed. And more, until they had all given up their weapons. Women in ball-gowns, Selina Kyle and Chloe among them, and men in tuxes picked up the sub-machine guns as their own.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Isis lowered her weapon, arms trembling.

**_"EVERYBODY FREEZE!"_**

Heads whipped around as the Gotham Police Department streamed into the ballroom, Clark in tow.

**_"PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!"_**

Clark pushed his way to the officer in charge. Isis watched him gesticulate wildly as she lowered her weapon. There was nothing like being arrested for saving your own life. Everyone should try it, she thought.

"Think we're gonna get arrested?" Lex asked no one in particular.

Bruce shrugged. "It'd make for a spectacular ending to my party and a telling beginning to your corporation."

Lex laughed.

§§§

Lana kicked a glass shard toward a waiting dustpan. "Two points!" she proclaimed. Her friends cheered dutifully.

"Isis?"

She turned. "Yeah, Clo?"

"I'm really sorry about earlier."

Isis shrugged. "It wasn't completely your fault. I've been walking on eggshells since we got here. Anything would have set me off. Hey, so what happened with Parker?"

Beaming Chloe told her that they'd exchanged phone numbers, e-mail addresses and strange stories. "You wouldn't believe some of the things he's seen."

Gabe Sullivan put an arm around his daughter. "I'd always heard New York was a strange town. Maybe someday you'll visit?"

Chloe turned her megawatt smile on her dad.

Lex and Clark joined the group. "The limo's pulled up," Lex said. "Who's ready to go home?"

Five pairs of hands shot up.

§§§ §§§ §§§

Author's Note: so there's a very good reason why this section took so long to post. If you had read this story last week you could be reading it right now. Not that I blame you, mind -- I realize you had no reason to come looking for a story from me. Anywho, you can read my very good reason on my new update list Vashti's Stories. You can join at  If you join you can ask me questions, find out about updates, or just annoy the heck outta me. Wait, rewind. Delete. Uh, and we can have lots of writer/reader fun. Weee!

vashti


	20. Even waltzes end

Even Waltzes End (or I think I've kept you waiting long enough)

Friday, January 3rd, 2003

Isis wondered if Lex noticed her absence at dinner. No, he had been very busy. It seemed now that LexCorp was official everyone wanted a piece of him. And they were only two days into incorporation.

But that wasn't the trouble weighing on her heart. It wasn't what was keeping her up that night. Chloe was. Or rather what Chloe had told her bright and early that morning, back when it had been Thursday. 

Isis had thought to swim off the feeling of dread and horror as pieces of a puzzle she hadn't known she'd been putting together fell into place.

And guilt. That girl wouldn't have died if Isis had been here in Smallville. She denied it as she swam lap after lap, until her arms and legs were lead and her lungs burned for air. It was the only way she got any sleep at all these days -- swimming herself into exhaustion. And still she managed to dream. But now she knew, or thought she knew, and would not sleep tonight.

So Isis wandered: her second favorite activity right behind swimming. She knew every part of the Luthor's transported Scotch mansion. She probably knew it better than the Luthor's, which was why she allowed herself to wander aimlessly through the jewel-tone tinted moonlit halls as she tried to make her thoughts turn away from the horror happening in her head.

Isis was more than a little surprised to find herself at Lex's bedroom door. Her own was another two hallways away -- where she'd relocated after the midnight incident with Lex. Isis didn't sleep long enough to scream much anymore, but just in case…

Should I look in on him? she wondered, but before the thought was fully formed Isis had already slipped into the room like a wraith. Jeweled moonlight slanted into the room behind her, illuminating the deep Persian carpets at her feet.

"Who's there?" Lex called out of the dark. He sounded remarkably alert for the hour.

"It's just me, Lex," Isis said softly. She backed partway out the door.

"Isis?" One word and he revealed how not awake he actually was. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just wandering around." A little further out the door. "I didn't mean to disturb you. Go to sleep."

Lex beckoned her forward in the dark. "You're here now. You may as well stay." When he saw that she wasn't going to budge he added, with humor in his voice, "I promise to behave."

The door closed shutting out all light.

After a moment Lex called Isis' name in the darkness. 

"I'm here Lex," she said from across the bed.

"Don't make me have to put bells on you, Ice," he grumped.

Chuckling softly, Isis climbing into the oversized bed. "Blame your plush carpet, not me."

Soon Lex's arms were around her waist as he settled his body against hers. "You smell strange."

Isis lifted her head. "Strange?"

"Like…like peanut butter?"

"Oh." Isis smiled into the dark. "_Reese's Pieces_. Who knew peanut butter and candy went so well together?" she whispered.

Lex laughed softly.

A moment's hesitation, then: "Do you want to taste?" Isis raised her head to kiss Lex . She turned in his arms to ease the strain on her neck and found Lex eager to taste her. "Do you like?" she panted when they parted for air.

"Quite delicious, but I'm not really looking for an appetizer this late," Lex said releasing her and pulling away to roll over.

Isis caught him, tugging him back. "I'm not offering an appetizer."

There was a long moment of silence before Lex, hovering over Isis' prone body, her grasping his arms as if to keep him there, asked, "What does this mean?"

Isis reached up to cradle his face. "I don't know." She kissed him.

With a hungry groan Lex kissed her back. His hands skimmed her body through her thin camisole, knees already nudging her thighs apart to more easily rest his weight against her. His lips found her pulse, the hollow of her neck and a sensitive spot behind her right ear. But he couldn't shake off one last measure of doubt.

Isis groaned when he pulled away from her body. "_Lex_, you tease," she panted.

But he wasn't laughing and his breathing was far too steady. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, feeling exposed and cold now that he had removed himself.

After a moment: "I'm just wondering how far you'll let me go before changing your mind." When she didn't reply he said, "Beyond this point, Isis, there's no going back. For you. For either of us."

Isis wound her left arm around Lex's neck. Simultaneously tugging at his left shoulder and pulling away his arm on that side, she flipped Lex over, tumbling with him, and straddling his waist. The darkly amused look on Lex's greyscaled face made her grin. It faded, however, when she bent down to whisper, "I'm not going back."

Lex flipped them. Fingers laced through hers, he pushed her hands above her head and kissed her silent.

§§§

It was the persistent sound of running water that finally woke Lex fully. Isis sliding from his arms and silently rolling out of bed had merely jostled him from his exhausted dreaming. So when she returned about a half-hour later according to his Indiglo watch on the nightstand, in his nightshirt and her cotton-silk pants he was waiting. Lying there he had come to a decision.

"Isis--"

She jumped. "God, Lex! I thought you were still asleep."

"Is everything all right?"

Silently Isis climbed in beside Lex. He could smell his soap rising like a curtain from her skin. "Second thoughts, Ice?" he asked, pulling her into his embrace. Nuzzling her hair as he waited for her answer, Lex remembered the moment he had pulled he green-gold braids -- ashen in the dark -- from their perpetual constraints. She had even stopped wearing it loose in the pool, giving him a flimsy excuse when he asked why.

Finally she said, "Not about you, Lex, or even us. Just…questioning myself," she finished softly.

"Is that why you put on my nightshirt?" he asked with a touch of flippancy in his voice.

"I felt…exposed."

She sounded so empty that Lex felt bad for the jocular tinge to his comment. Wordlessly he turned her in his arm. He tucked her head into the crook of her neck. His long tapered fingers worked themselves into her braids, massaging her scalp. Her eyelashes caressed his neck as she blinked. "My mother began to seriously decline when I was about nine," Les said softly.

Isis raised her head. "Lex, why--?"

"Shh. Let me bare my soul, thank you. She'd never been in the best of health," he continued as Isis resettled herself, "not in my memory anyway. She'd always had a strong personality, however. Mom was the only person that could make my father do anything."

"Persuasive woman," into Lex's neck. He felt her blink rapidly and waited for her to stop tickling him.

"Yes. Very much so. I think I would have a fundamentally different person had she lived. But back to my story:

"Mom was beginning to decline, although at the time we didn't know it, or wouldn't have admitted it had we known. By the time her birthday came in the spring of the next year she had been hospitalized off and on for over six months, with that stay being the longest thus far.

"All my life my father and I had given Mom a present from the both of us. I agonized for weeks trying to figure out how best to break it to Dad that I wanted to give Mom something solely from me. When I finally told him, his lips thinned, he turned back to the mountain of paperwork beside his, now archaic, word processor and said , 'Well it's about time.'

"I devoted nearly the entire month prior to her birthday looking for the perfect gift. I asked the female staff, I asked the married men and the flirts. I asked perfume girls and makeup women who thought I was adorable and strange, florists and dressmakers who found me odd in an endearing way. I remember one frantic afternoon, a mere four days until my mother's birthday, stopping any woman that would talk to a pale, slender, bald nine-and-a-half year old what the perfect gift was. So far it is still the most difficult decision I've ever had to make."

Lex felt Isis' shoulders gently tremble with laughter. 

"The one person I didn't seek advice from was my father. He had already begun 'teaching' me, although at the time it wasn't quite as overt as it would become. I knew, however, that asking Dad was entirely unacceptable. I had decided to go it alone, so alone I had to stand."

Lex's hand paused in Isis' hair as he thought of the early years of his mother's sickness. Sighing softly he went on. "Finally it was the day before and I was nearly in tears. I hadn't found anything suitable. There were a number of gifts that I thought might do, but I wanted this to be perfect, not just suitable. It would be the first gift Mom had ever gotten that simply read 'From: Lex Luthor.'

"My father called me into his office just before noon. Tales of my near-hysterical state had made it to his ears. 'Before you know it you'll be using that foolish pump again,' he told me. 'So what's this about, Lex? Not Lillian's gift.'

"I hardly managed to control the quaver in my voice, which, between the embarrassment and disappointment, was acute, when I answered, 'Yes, sir, it does.'

" 'Well then pick something and put your name on it,' Dad told me. 'Lillian will love whatever you give her. She is your mother.'

"I don't know what lost human emotion prompted him to then say, with a now shockingly softer mien, 'Lex, dear boy, don't second guess yourself. You know your mother and you know your own mind. Don't let self-doubt get in your way. Ever.'"

With a rueful smile he said, "It's probably the best and worst advice Dad's ever given me." Lex was silently thoughtful, working his fingers through Isis' slim braids. He bent his head to her hair breathing in the hot-house scent of hyacinth made stronger by her spent body-heat. "Don't let anyone make you doubt yourself." He kissed her hair. "Not even me. Okay?"

No response. It was only then that he realized he didn't feel her eyelashes moving on his skin. "Isis?" Carefully rolling her so he could see her face, Lex cradled her head in his hands. He dropped another kiss on her nose before pulling her close. They slept.

* 

be updated. join the Y! Group, Vashti's Stories. 


	21. Do I know you?

For my lurkers…I know you're out there somewhere. I hope. Oh who am I kidding…lol…

Don't I know you?

Thursday, January 2nd

"You look wiped out, Ice."

Standing in the doorway of _The Torch_, Isis smiled. "You're not looking too hot yourself, Chloe."

"Yeah, well, adventure seems to follow wherever we go," Chloe said, rubbing her weary eyes. "So whatcha doin' here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Scowling Chloe said, "There's always a rush to put out the first post-Winter Break paper. Of course this is the first year it's also been post-super-elaborate-hold-up as well."

"Least it wasn't a Meteor Monster," Isis said with a lopsided smile, leaning against the doorframe.

Chloe instantly brightened. "Speaking of Meteor Monsters, you'll never believe what happened while we were gone."

Eyebrows climbing, Isis walked into the office and perched on the desk across from Chloe's. Suddenly she made a face as if to say _Oh who am I kidding?_ and slid down into the plastic chair. "So what is it, Clo? Is Corey Welch really a two-headed parasite of human sweat?"

Handing Isis the article she had printed from the internet, Chloe said, "Worse. You know Anna Constantine?"

"Name's familiar," Isis said, skimming the article, "but you're all starting to sound famil-- Oh no."

Chloe sighed and frowned. "Unfortunately. She was cool. Anna wrote one or two pieces for the paper. God drowning must be a horrible way to die," she said, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't wish it on anyone," Isis said softly, feeling the water filling her lungs. She shook her head as if to clear it. "So what does this have to do with my Meteor Monster comment?"

Chloe's face brightened all over again. "Well that's where Chad the Goth comes in."

"Excuse me? _Chad_ the Goth?"

"Yeah, okay, so 'Chad' isn't exactly the first name I'd have put in the same sentence as 'Goth,' but that's beside the point. Chad is my source at the coroners -- a secret you must now guard with your life."

Isis snorted. "As if anyone would believe me."

Chloe through a pink rubber eraser at her.

"Okay, okay. I'm sworn to secrecy. Eesh. So what's the word from good ol' Chad?"

"Well first off Anna might've been DOA but the paramedics managed to revive her."

Isis' eyebrows drew together. "Why would the article lie about that? Sounds like it'd be really juice to me."

"That's the thing -- they didn't lie." Chloe was thrumming with excitement. "It was a cover-up. Apparently by the time they got her to the Emergency Room and all hooked up and what not she died and was past reviving. Or at least that's how Chad heard it. Supposedly the hospital didn't even tell Mr. And Mrs. Constantine ."

"God, that's horrible."

"It gets better."

_"Chloe."_

Chloe blew here bangs from her eyes in a huff. "You know what I mean: _Any_way…like I was saying, they managed to get Anna hooked up to whatever all they tape on you when you're unconscious for more than, like, five seconds or something, and they were getting readings."

Isis' look wanted to know why this mattered.

"Okay, they can't be sure because she wasn't on long enough, but they think that maybe Anna sleepwalked to the pool."

"No way," Isis said, incredulous. "She drowned in the school pool, Chloe. Or does Chad know something about that too?"

Chloe plopped down into her chair and cross her legs at the knee, her pleated blue-plaid wool skirt revealing bright blue hose above the knee of equally plaid boots. "Now that you mention it… Okay, so the school thing is definitely right--" She stopped suddenly, noticing the rising volume from outside. Isis got up and closed the door. When she sat back down Chloe continued: "But Chad says the paramedics that took her in say that the doctor that saw her thinks Anna managed to break the locks herself."

"Sleepwalking?"

"If this were anyplace but Smallville I'd find it just as hard to believe, but, yeah, sleepwalking."

Eyes narrowed, Isis said, "So all the damage to her hands was from getting the front door open, not struggling against her clothes like the article said?"

"We're not so sure about that."

"So what evidence--"

"The autopsy revealed micro- and macro- soft tissue damage in her arms and the muscles of Anna's back. That's totally unusual damage for a drowning victim."

Isis frowned. "Chloe…can you get me into the school database?"

"Sure thing."

"I wanna see what Anna Constantine looked like," Isis said, coming to stand over Chloe. "You said that the going theory is that she somehow sleepwalked herself to death?"

Chloe nodded, pulling up an old junior yearbook picture of Anna who had been a year ahead of her. "Something like that. I mean how else would you explain the heavy winter coat? It hasn't been _that _cold in Kansas this winter. Not like Gotham." She shivered, remembering the bone-aching East Coast cold they had recently escaped.

Isis' frown only deepened when the picture finished downloading. Although both Principal Kwan and the photographer had probably been livid, Anna had taken her junior yearbook picture heavily mascaraed, her hair a _Manic Panic _blue-green. Isis wondered if the profile shot was hiding either a nose- or eyebrow-ring. Or both. "She was a blonde," Isis murmured.

"How can you tell?"

"Her roots were beginning to show," Isis said, indicating the thin line of corn-silk yellow.

"Good eyes."

"I was looking," Isis mumbled, as if deep in thought, staring intently at Anna's picture. She straightened. "Chloe can I keep the article or could you make me a copy or something?"

Chloe turned in her chair. "Sure. Go ahead and take that one. I've got the link in my e-mail. Why, do you think you might know something? I thought this was the first time you were hearing about it."

"It is. There's someone who should see this is all." Isis smiled brightly. It felt hard and brittle. "Hey, if anything comes of it you'll be the first to know," she lied. She glanced down at her watch. "Bell's gonna ring in about five. I gotta get out of here Chloe."

"Okay. Hey do you have sixth period lunch today?"

"Dunno, Chloe. I'll see what I can do."

" 'Kay. See you around Isis."

She was almost out the door when she remembered: "Chloe, you're not going to print this story. The real story that is."

Chloe shook her head, leaning back in her chair. "It'd be cruel to the Constantines who don't have a clue."

"Hopefully they'll never find out."

On a sigh: "Yeah."

§§§

Clark set his books down across from Isis sitting at a far table in the library . "Hey."

She looked up with startled eyes. "Oh, hey Clark. Did the bell ring?"

"Yeah. Like a minute--"

She was already getting her things together. "Thanks."

"--ago. You're welcome," he said to her back.

Clark looked up as Pete put his stuff down moments later and said, "Hey, did you see Isis go by?"

"You mean a gold and brown blur about yea high?"

Grinning, Clark nodded. "Yeah. I wonder what was up?"

Pete shrugged. "Probably remembered Kwan had some class for her to cover. Dude, is there anyone that guy doesn't have it in for?"

"_No._ But you know that, Pete. Hey, so recovered from Gotham yet?"

Pete groaned. "I'll be catching up on sleep for the next month. What about you Clark? It's fifth period and you still look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

"One of the freaky side benefits of, uh," Clark glanced around quickly, "being a farm kid."

"Yeah, well, farm boys get all the luck. Hey, did you manage to finish the holiday homework?"

Clark held up his assignment.

Grinning Pete held up his. "So you aren't perfect after all."

Clark snorted. "Me, perfect? Biggest exaggeration of, like, the year."

"I quite agree, gentlemen."

Clark and Pete looked up into the irate face of Smallville High's librarian.

"Mr. Kent and…Mr. Ross? There _is_ a Please Be Quiet sign just above your heads, and you _can_ read, can't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said.

"I suggest you heed it in the very near future." With that she turned on her heel and walked away.

Pete leaned across the table. "Do you realize she's been the school librarian at every school we've been at since kindergarten?"

"Kindergartens don't have libraries, Pete."

"Yes they do and she was there! She has it out for me man."

"Hey, sounds like she's the only woman who isn't taken in by the Ross charm."

A sly look came over Pete's face. "Well her and Selina Kyle."

Clark groaned.

§§§

"I didn't say you could sit here," Dylan Strauss said, eyes on his green peas and mashed potatoes.

"I didn't ask," Isis answered with arched brow.

"Then go away."

"You don't go away," Isis shot back.

"I don't know what you're talking about Ms. Ross."

Isis slid Chloe's article across the table.

"What's this?"

"I think you know."

Dylan Strauss looked up from the article. A heartbeat's pause. "I have no idea what this is about."

"Yeah ya do. And you're feeling pretty smirky about it, aren't you?"

"…Actually I am."

Isis' voice dropped to a whisper: "You killed a girl, Dylan."

"Too bad it wasn't one of you."

"One of us?!" Only the cafeteria din saved her from having every room head in the room turn toward them.

Dylan chuckled. Rose from his seat. "See you around, _Izzy_."

§§§

Mrs. Kerrick warned Dylan another lateness would earn him a detention. "You aren't the only person coming from fifth period lunch, Mr. Strauss, yet somehow your fellow classmates seem to make it here before the Late Bell."

But Dylan didn't hear her. Sitting in his chair on the far side of the classroom, one row way from the tall windows, he kept Seeing Isis Ross let herself into a teacher's restroom, drop to her knees and empty the contents of her stomach.

It made him smile.

§§§

Chloe called Isis while she was driving. She touched the answer key. "Yes, Chloe?"

"Hey, what happened to you at sixth?" came the question through the Benz's speakers.

"I had to talk to someone during fifth then I got all tied up at sixth. I'm sorry I stiffed you, Clo."

There was a pause then, "Are you all right Isis? You sound tired."

_Sigh_. "I am, Chloe. I'm going to the Mansion now to relax," she lied.

Chloe smiled although she knew her friend didn't see it. "Okay, get some rest."

"I'll try. Bye, Clo."

"See ya, Ice." Chloe flipped her phone closed just as Lana brought her another coffee. "Hey so how's Isis? Is she gonna come to our movie-day on Saturday?"

Chloe grimaced. "She sounded so out of it, I didn't even ask. How about you try popping the question tomorrow?"

"Nope," Lana said, briefly leaning on the countertop. "If I ask Isis then I might as well ask Lex, in which case you'll have to ask Pete and Clark, when I thought you were studiously avoiding our beloved Farm Boy."

Chloe made a face.

"If you keep doing that your face will get stuck that way."

Chloe stuck her tongue out at Lana.

Who snorted and said, "Oh yeah, real mature."

"Hey, I thought so."

§§§

Friday, January 3rd

Lex had to admit that there were few sights more satisfying than that of a woman lying in your bed wearing your shirt, the evidence of your kisses and the scent of your body as her only covering.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Isis half-turned in her sleep so that she was nearly on her back. With a smirk he looked at the mess he had made of her small, delicate, green-gold braids. She'd be five kinds of mad when she got up. Or maybe she'd look in the mirror and remember.

Lex turned away, straightening his collar. He could stay home and work today. Hadn't Isis asked him just as much oh so recently. Hence her little "parting gift." His body hadn't quite shaken its languid lassitude and his cheeks were definitely pinkish. Lex grinned to himself, looking down at his cuffs. There was something to be said for born-again virgins.

When he turned back to Isis somehow a green-gold braid had slipped over her closed eyes although she hadn't moved. Lex's mouth briefly bent into a frown at the odd color contrast as he brushed the hair from her face. She turned toward his touch and Lex found himself tempted to kiss her forehead.

Just a caress of skin, Lex promised himself as he leaned over her. The kiss was quick, almost fraternal, as the combined musk of their bodies rose up from her skin to meet him.

He left before he could become addicted.

§§§

Just a lil FYI, in case you were wanting to know: the next chapter's gonna be called "One, two, Freddy's coming for you" or something very close to


	22. One, two, Freddy's coming

Author's Note: see end. 

§§§

One, two, Freddy's coming for you

§§§

Monday, Feb. 3rd

As he came out of his languor, Lex reached over and turned up the water temperature of his shower. After the biting cold, the warmth was more than welcome. Of course it was nothing like having Isis in his arms. Or being in her arms.

They had fallen into a kind of pattern. Isis' work, both for him and Kwan, was increasingly keeping her home at the mansion, although they were rarely able to do simple things like eat together unless it was already penciled into their schedules.

But at night…

If Isis wasn't already in bed waiting for him when he came up from the office, then she was waking him with soft kisses and her teasing, sylphan hands.

After their first night Lex realized that Isis' "born-again virgin" had not been an act. But that didn't mean sex still didn't look really good on her, or that she didn't take to it well.

Oh so well.

Lex felt the stirrings of an erection.

She always fell asleep curled into his body -- her face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder as if she could hide in him. Yet she was never there in the morning. Somehow Isis managed to slip from his arms during the night, and no matter how early Lex woke he never caught her sneaking off.

So Lex got up. He showered, trying, often in vain, to wash away the smell of Isis on his skin and the languor of sex from his body. Then, after attending to his morning toiletries, Lex returned to his room to dress…and to find Isis curled up in his spot on the bed.

Lex leaned over and brushed an errant braid from Isis' face.

Gasping she caught his wrist in her hand, her eyes popping open. _"Lex!"_

"Jeez! Isis you nearly gave me a heart attack," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She snorted. "Ditto, Bald Dude."

Frowning, Lex used his right hand to extricate his left. "You mind letting me go?"

"I'm sorry, Lex," Isis said, relaxing into the bed. She released him, covering her eyes with her arm.

"Bad dreams?"

She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

He ran a nimble finger down her arm. "I thought those had stopped."

"Not, uh, completely," she said, lowering her arm.

"The kidnapping was months ago. I thought Mrs. Cauldhaume got you an appointment with a psychiatrist," he asked, concern coloring his voice.

A smile lit her face. "You know the bad one never really go away."

Lex recognized her evasion for what it was. "No, they don't," he agreed softly, leaning over to kiss her.

Chuckling Isis put her hands up to stop him.

Lex pouted.

"Hey, not only do you have to go to work--"

"It's my company. I can go in whenever I want."

"--but I also have a serious case of morning breath."

Lex shied away. "Oh no! Done in by bad bacteria."

Isis smiled sleepily. "Get dressed, lo-- Lex. I left you something," she said turning to face his impressive closet.

Knowing that she was watching, Lex let his towel slip from around his waist. "There's nothing orange like yesterday's choice, is there?"

"Yesterday's was _not_ orange," she protested. "It was burnt…orange."

A sharp bark oflaughter escaped Lex. Laid out on one of the chairs by the dead fireplace was a gray pinstripe suit, a plum shirt set inside. "You want me to look like an eggplant?"

"It's not eggplant," she said sleepily. Her eyes were half-lidded when he turned to look at her. "Is plum. It'll bring out…your pallor…and your…" her voice was fading, "blue eyes."

Lex watched her go back to sleep. Suddenly she looked very fragile in his beg bed, as if she had been made of blown glass. And were those dark circles under her eyes? A devilish smile curled Lex's lips: just further evidence of their long sleepless nights.

Isis' turning in her sleep revealed four long scratches that began at her neck and ended midway across her left cheek. Had Lex done that? It was possible, but he knew they hadn't been there last night. Picking up the plum shirt, he vowed to ask her about the marks later.

§§§

Wednesday, Feb 5th

Pete slid into an empty booth at _The Talon_. In moments, Lana was there to take his order. "So, still on your white mocha mocha fix, Pete?"

He rubbed his hands together. "Something about that milk chocolate, man."

Lana laughed. "Comin' right up, Pete."

"Thanks Lana."

"Pete!"

At the sound of his name, Pete turned. Waved to Chloe as she breezed in. she slid into the booth across from him. "Hey, I missed Trig. You mind if I borrow your notes Pete?"

"Missed Trig?" It was one of the many classes they didn't share.

"Yeah. Following a lead on the Anna Constantine thing."

Pete's voice dropped to a whisper as he said, "Something new come up on who might've killed her?" He reached into his bag for his notes.

"Not much," she admitted with a sound of exasperation. "But you know the more research I do on her the more it's like I know her."

Pete opened his binder and handed Chloe his notes. "Sure. You're learning all about her."

Lana came to the table with Pete's coffee-drink. "Here's your white mocha-mocha, Pete. Hey Chloe, do you want your regular."

"Yeah, thanks Lana." She waited for Lana to go before continuing. "It's more than just immersing myself in Anna, Pete. It's like…like I _know_ her. Like she coulda been one of us. She could've been my fashionably loud _sister_, Pete."

"Here's your coffee, Clo," Lana said.

Chloe handed her the money for her coffee. "Thanks Lana. And thanks for listening, Pete. Gotta go," she said sliding out the booth. "Thanks again for the notes, Pete," she called over her shoulder, nearly sprinting out the coffee-shop.

"Does she ever slow down?" Pete wondered aloud.

"She sure doesn't at home," Lana said, shaking her head.

"Hey do you have a minute, Lana?"

She shrugged. "Why not. I _am_ part owner," she said with a wry smile. Setting her tray down, she slid into the booth across from Pete. "So what's up?"

"Chloe's totally oblivious, isn't she?"

Lana's look was sympathetic when she said, "I'm sorry, Pete."

Shaking his head slowly, Pete wondered what more he could do.

"Well you know there's always being up front with her," Lana suggested.

"I can't do that. Lana, I can't put our friendship on the line like that."

"Look Pete, either you're going to lust after Chloe for the rest of your life or you're going to have to risk something and go _after_ her," she said with a shrug. "Because, y'know as smart as Chloe is, sometime she can't see what's right in front of her face. She's not a psychic"

Pete stared at her blankly.

"Then again you could move on," she said with a smile. "I mean, honestly, it won't affect anyone but you. Gotta go, Pete," she said sliding out the booth. She pulled the tray along after her.

"Yeah, uh, thanks Lana," he said, dazed and confused.

Lana patted his hand. "Just watch…that Ross charm will hit that perfect someone so hard you'll be the one feeling the aftershocks."

Staring after her as she made her rounds Pete muttered an "I hope you're right" to himself.

§§§

Friday, February 7

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kent."

Clark smiled. "Hey Matthews. Is Lex here?" he asked as he crossed the threshold.

"Yes sir…"

Clark fidgeted, still finding being addressed as "sir" more than a little weird.

"…I believe he is in the study."

"Thanks Matthews."

The butler inclined his head.

"I'll, uh, find my own way."

"As you wish, Mr. Kent."

"Right," he said softly, ambling in the direction of Lex's office.

Very quickly he was pushing open the study door with one arm and shrugging out of his fleece-lined jacket with the other. "Hey Lex, don't freak out it's just me," he said. "Of course somehow you always seem to know that already…"

Clark looked up from the sleeves of his jacket. The back of Lex's chair was to him. Strange. "Lex?" It was possible that Matthews was wrong about the specifics of Lex's whereabouts. It was highly unlikely…

"Lex," Clark called again, approaching the wide desk cautiously. Slowly. Besides, Clark continued in his head, Lex is only human right? He had to go to the bathroom eventually, right? Of course this _was_ Smallville, which meant that just because the creature in front of you had four long legs, an equally long tail and mane, didn't mean it wasn't a meteor mutant horse out to kill you. (They didn't really get zebras in Kansas.)

So on that thought of boundless optimism, Clark scanned through the back of Lex's chair.

Someone _was_ there, but the frame was too delicate around the shoulders and skull to be Lex. So then who…?

Clark grinned to himself. Isis thought she was going to get him. Boy was _she_ in for a surprise.

Clark brought his pace back to his usual amble. Almost to the chair now, he reached out, _Lex_ on his lips as he turned the chair around.

There was a split second when Isis was still asleep, when Clark realized that he'd made a mistake, nauseous, before Isis' eyes popped open. Flashed green.

Then she screamed.

The sense of nausea intensified. It was all Clark could do to keep from doubling over.

And just as suddenly it was over.

"Clark, are you all right?" Isis demanded.

Clark shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, I think so. That was--"

Their heads shot up to the door. Lex and Matthews were both standing in the threshold, looking as if they meant to save Clark and Isis from a burning house. It was Lex who recovered first. "What's going on here?" he asked calmly enough, considering the circumstances. "We heard screaming."

Still seated, Isis blushed under her milk-chocolate skin. "That was me. I'm sorry Lex, Matthews. I was daydreaming and Clark surprised me."

Having heard enough, Matthews asked if anyone wanted any refreshment -- "Coffee please," from Isis -- before retreating.

Lex, his usual saunter back, stalked across the room and perched on the edge of his impressive desk. "Let's see, Clark, the last time I found you alone in here with my gi-- guest you were kissing her. I see you've moved up to terrorization."

Clark didn't seem to have noticed his friend's near slip when he began to protest, "Lex, I--"

Chuckling, Isis interrupted him. "Jeez you're easy Clark."

"He's easy too?" Lex's tone was indignant, but his eyes were dancing. He slapped his friend on the arm. "C'mon Clark, you're the most honest person I know." He nodded to the dark-haired maid who brought in Isis' coffee on a silver tray. "For the most part," he added mischievously.

Isis rose from Lex's chair. Likewise, he slid off the edge of the desk. Opening his mini-fridge, Lex offered Clark a bottle of his imported water.

"Sure." Clark caught the tossed bottle easily. "Hey you really should try this stuff called Clearly Canadian."

"That clear fruit soda Lana has been going on about?"

Clark nodded.

"I like it," Isis said in an offhand manner. Rejoining their little group, she took the supplicant's seat. "So are you still coming tonight, Clark?"

He nodded.

"_Bien_. Although I didn't know you liked opera."

Clark's face was chagrined when he said, "Not exactly."

Circling to his chair, Lex said, "It's a favor."

"Whatever did you do, Clark?"

Clark began to grin. "Actually I promised Lex I'd go with you guys to the opera if he promised to come bowling with us on Valentine's Day."

Isis' jaw dropped. "No way! Go Clark. Pete's gonna have bowling ball jokes forever."

"I know," Lex replied dourly.

They sat around in semi-awkward silence. Then Isis set her coffee on the edge of Lex's desk and rubbed her forehead with her hand. "I think I'm gonna go," she said, standing.

Lex rose from his chair and Clark pushed himself off the edge of the desk.

She smiled. "What gentlemen. I'll see you later, Clark," she said stepping close to him. She reached up and kissed him fraternally on the cheek.

"What? None for me?"

Isis laughed and left.

Still blushing, Clark turned to his friend and asked, "Are you two…together?"

Coming around his desk to the pool table, Lex asked, "What makes you think that?" He handed Clark a pool cue.

"I don't know. Just…something."

"Hmm."

Clark decided to move on to a safer topic: "So how's your Dad taking the separation. It's been like three months since you left LuthorCorp?"

"Not quite." Lex looked up and flashed his friend a smile. "On the surface he's taking it quite well." Lex took the rack that had been on the pool balls off and lined up a shot. "In other words he's still pissed as Hell."

"You don't seem too upset about it," Clark said watching Lex sink a solid.

"Pissing my father off has been one of my greatest aspirations. I'm always pleased when I succeed." He missed his shot.

"Well I think you're doing a pretty good job."

§§§

Isis plucked her linen dinner napkin from her lap and placed it on the table.

Lex and Clark blinked owlishly at her.

"Oh, no need to stop talking. I'm just going to the Ladies' Room," she said rising. "Excuse me."

Clark pulled out his chair to let her pass. "Wow that was really weird."

"What was, Clark?" Lex sipped his wine, wondering if Clark would voice his thought for him.

"I had actually forgotten Isis was here for a minute."

"Hmm," he said in both acknowledgment and agreement. Isis _had_ been very quiet at dinner and subdued during the opera. Even Clark had found it funny.

Clark shrugged. "Guess she had a long day what with working at school and for you."

"You're probably right." But I don't think so, Lex thought.

Neither did Clark, actually, but he wasn't ready to share his meteor-rock based theories with anyone yet. Not until he _had_ one at least.

§§§

Early Tuesday, February 11

Chloe stared out at the snow as it fell past her window. She wondered if she was the first person to see it. Of course after the white Christmas in Gotham and their flight home nearly being grounded as the entire Eastern Seaboard was hit with near-blizzard conditions, Chloe wasn't exactly amused by the lacy flakes.

But after the horrible nightmare she had just woken up from, watching the snow dance merrily outside her wind was relaxing and refreshing. Cleansing.

The strangest part about it, though, was that it had felt like she had come in on the middle of the nightmare. She imagined it was how an understudy in a Broadway show felt when the lead got sick during Act 3 and suddenly she had to go on. But worse. So much worse.

Watching the snow fall, trying to forget the feeling of hands clawing at her clothes, her body, _her soul_. Chloe couldn't know that Isis had been up far longer and had watched the first few flakes begin to fall.

Just as Isis couldn't know that wrenching herself from Dylan's metaphysical arms, when he was so close to having what he wanted, would send him in search of his second favorite victim.

§§§

Lex thought he heard a dull _thump_ against the window. Then another. Quickly he looked up from his work toward the bright, bright sunlight coming through the stained glass. The shadow of a falling sheet of snow rushed past as he watched.

_Thump -- thump -- **thump!**_

A quick eyebrow shrug and he was back to work. His Highland ancestors had indulged in pointed roofs for weather such as this. There was no point paying it any mind considering the house was just doing its job.

"Like I should," he muttered to himself.

He didn't look up again, despite the continued muffled sounds of falling snow sheet. He even ignored the door being opened.

"Hey Lex."

He looked up. Smiled warmly. "You're ruddy, Isis."

"It's great outside!" she proclaimed a touch breathlessly. She kept turning her hands over in her gloves. "Whatcha working on?" she asked as she came toward him.

"The usual. Aren't you hot in that coat?"

She shrugged. "Still cold from outside." Coming up behind him, she read the monitors over his shoulder. "Hmm…interesting."

Lex shot out of his chair. The snowball Isis had been holding went sliding down his back.

Isis shot out of the office, laughing.

Lex bellowed her name.

"Catch me if you can, LL."

It was telling that Matthews had his coat ready for him as he came dashing down the hall. Lex only slowed for a moment. "Did she plan this?"

"Miss Ross only said that I should have your driving coat ready for you, sir."

"Thanks!" And he was out the door.

Lex dove for cover behind the first snow bank he saw.

"Get out of there, silly! I was just trying to get you to come outside. Didn't you hear me throwing snowballs at your window?" Isis asked as she settled herself on top of the embankment.

"I thought that was snow falling from the roof."

She snorted. "Yeah, like one huge sh_eeee_--!" The rest of her sentence was engulfed in a shriek as the embankment collapsed from beneath her. She landed on Lex, still lying behind it and now dusted with snow.

"What the--!"

Grinning, Lex answered her unfinished question: "I was digging underneath."

She gasped at him. "You weakened the snow bank on purpose!"

"Uh huh. Call us even."

Lex figured her gaping mouth was the perfect invitation for a kiss -- so he took her up on the offer. He pushed them over, bringing his lips down on hers. Isis ripped off her gloves, the better to clutch at the back of Lex's neck. She pressed up into the kiss, a moan bubbling up from her throat.

Despite his raging hard-on urging him to do otherwise, Lex pulled away. Isis still held his head in her hands. She reached up and nipped at his lower lip. "That was fun," she said breathlessly, "but you're a touch heavy and the snow is just plain cold."

Grinning, Lex rolled off Isis then extended his hand to help her up.

He got a face full of snow.

Laughing she tried to stand but only managed to kneel in her long coat. "you're such a sucker!"

"Why you…" They tumbled end over end as Lex launched himself at Isis. Breathless, she pushed herself off him, running away. Lex was quickly on his feet following her, throwing loose snow at will. He felt himself grow hot with exertion and loved it. Laughing too, Lex thought of all the things he would do with Isis when he caught her. Kissing was the least of them.

"Oh come on, Lex," Isis cried, running backward, "is that all you've got!"

"I don't see you doing much better," he said as he caught up with her, grabbing her upper arms. He pulled her into another kiss -- shorter because they could hardly catch their breath, but no less intense.

Isis dropped to the ground. "Let's make snow angels."

Quirking an eyebrow, Lex looked down at Isis with incredulity. "Snow angels?"

"Snow angels." Lying back, she began swinging her arms and legs. "Excuse me," she said, leaning up, "you're in the way of my right angel-wing."

"You're serious."

"Tres." Isis flopped back down and continued working on her snow angel.

Lex stared at Isis happily swinging her arms and legs. Flopping down himself, Lex shook his head. "How do you get me to do stuff like this?"

"Oh I bet Clark coulda done as good a job."

"Well…"

"But I bet the sex wouldn't be as good."

Lex nearly choked, he was laughing so hard. "God I'd hope so." After a moment: "I have to go back, Ice."

Isis reached across the space of untouched snow between them. "It was fun, wasn't it?" she asked, smiling.

He took her hand. "Thanks for the break Ice. I needed it." He got up and helped her out of her angel, tucking her hand into his elbow once she was up.

"Actually I think I'm gonna stay out here for a while," she said, disengaging herself.

"Okay." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

Isis watched him walk to the house, wondering if she should go inside herself. Lying down for that snow angel had been a mistake: whatever energy she'd mustered to play with Lex had been swept away with every swing of her arms. But she was only going to walk around to the back of the house -- a feat all its own -- and see how pretty the snow had made the grounds. Then off to the kitchen for--

"Hey Isis!" Lex called.

She turned, swaying slightly on her feet.

Lex threw his snowball, swearing lightly when it seemed to miss.

She collapsed.

_"Isis!"_ Lex ran across the yard toward her. "Matthews! Help!"

"I'm right here, Mr. Luthor." Matthews came puffing and sliding in his dress shoes behind Lex.

"I would have sworn I missed her, Matthews," he said dropping to his knees beside the unconscious Isis.

"So would I sir."

Lex ripped off his gloves and felt for her pulse. It was steady beneath his fingers. "Come on Ice, wake up," he muttered.

"Shall I call an ambulance, sir?"

"In this snow? The Mansion's driveway isn't shoveled" Lex didn't look up from Isis' closed eyes. "They'll never make it. Tell Enrique to get the Aston Martin ready."

"Sir, that will never get through this snow."

Lex whipped around to face Matthews, a hard look on his face. "Get _something_."

Matthews began backing away. "Yes, sir."

"C'mon Isis…c'mon. You've had acid trips that were worse than the snowball I threw at you." he lifted her into his arms. Only the memory of her pulse steady under his finger tips made her dead weight bearable. He touched his forehead to her cold one. "Please open your eyes, Isis."

A truck horn honked behind them. Lex didn't realize how quiet it had been in the snow, Isis in his arms, until he turned in shock at the sound of it.

Enrique hopped out of a gleaming red pickup. "Good thing you kept this around, huh Mr. Luthor?" the mechanic-slash-driver said as Lex lifted Isis in his arms.

Forgot I had this thing. Help me get Isis in here."

"Yes, sir." They propped Isis against the door. "Do you want to drive?"

Lex was torn by a moment of indecision. He pulled open the door. "I'll drive."

Enrique put his hand on the door to stop his employer. The look in Lex's eye was wild and the roads were still mostly thigh-deep in snow. "Sir, I really think--"

Yanking the door from Enrique, Lex slammed it shut. "I said I'd drive."

"Yes, sir."

He gunned the engine.

They slid once, over a patch of black ice, when he thought he heard Isis mumble his name. Lex kept up his stream of useless pleading all the way to the hospital. Where he fishtailed to a stop in front of the Emergency wing. Ignoring yells and horns of protest, Lex jumped out of the red pickup, ran around the front and pulled open the passenger's side door. Isis slid into his waiting arms, a frightening dead weight.

Cradling her in his arms, he ran into the Emergency Room. "I need help! I need _help!_"

A nurse came out from behind her station. "What's the problem, sir?" She rested both hands on his arms, forcing him to stop swinging Isis wildly around and focus.

"She collapsed. We were having a snowball fight and she collapsed."

The woman pulled a pen light from her breast pocket. Shining it in Isis' eyes, she asked Lex, "Was she hit in the head?"

"I…I don't think so. I would have sworn that I only grazed her cheek, but…I don't know. I can't remember."

The nurse nodded. "Okay. Let's put her on this gurney, and then I need you to come over here and fill out some forms about--"

"You're not going to treat her?"

"Sir, she--"

Voice dropping to a steely calm, Lex said, "My girlfriend needs a doctor. _Now_."

But the nurse matched him tone for tone: "Don't think you're going to bully me, Mr. Luthor. I don't care who this woman is to you. Her condition is not as pressing as some others here, and if _I_ say she waits then she _waits_."

"My--"

"I don't care how much money your family has given to this hospital. It's still a _hospital_, and here the most needy get first dibs, not the rich. Now…" she took a deep breath, "either you put the young woman down and do as I requested or you get back in your fancy car and start the long drive to Metropolis."

For three long heartbeats Lex stared at this woman, almost as tiny as diminutive Chloe, and considered her words. He was at her mercy.

Wordlessly he set Isis down and followed the nurse back to her station. Back to business as usual, she slid the requisite forms across the high counter to Lex. Looking up briefly he saw that her name was Norma.

"You can sit while filling those out, sir."

With a deft twist of his fingers, he turned the forms around on their clipboard and pushed them back at her, pen on top. "Done." At her surprised look he said, "I have a lot of experience with hospital forms."

"I see. Please take a seat."

As he turned to go her heard her say to a passing intern: "Marco, check on the girl in bed four. I'm pretty sure she's just asleep, but you never know." Lex sat down heavily next to a woman with a crying two-year old girl and another woman nervously flipping through dog-eared magazines. For a man who had, at one time, had little use for woman outside the sensual, Lex suddenly found himself surrounded by them.

He forced himself not to look over at Isis. Intern Marco was going to check on her. Nurse Norma had said she was sleeping. Not a concussion. She wasn't critical enough to see right away.

Lex smacked his open palm with his fist. He stopped resisting and turned then. Somehow every relationship in which he found himself -- whether platonic or erotic, open or discreet -- seemed to fall apart in his hands. So far his friendship with Clark was the most stable--

Isis began to stir on her gurney. Lex shot out of his seat, disturbing the reader on his right. Ignoring her annoyed "Hey!" he went to Isis' side.

"Isis…Isis can you hear me?"

"Mr. Luthor, please have--"

But he tuned her out completely as he tried to hear Isis's mumbled words over the constant noise of the Emergency Room. Her voice began to rise. Her head snapped violently to the left as if she had been slapped.

Lex felt hands on his arms, trying to pull him away.

"NO!" The hands stopped. Everything stopped. For in that moment Isis began convulsing. Her right hand shot out. He caught her wrist, but not before she raised three angry red welts along the left side of his face.

The hands, it turned out, had belonged to Nurse Norma who leant them to the task of holding down Isis. "Get me a sedative, now!"

There was a flurry of activity behind them, but both were busy keeping Isis from hurting herself. A nurse, an intern, someone, materialized at the head of the gurney holding a syringe and bottle of sedative. "Five cc's?"

"Yeah."

A quick measurement, checking for air bubbles, then the syringe was jabbed into Isis' neck as Nurse Norma held her head down and to one side. Her frantic limbs stilled almost immediately.

There was a smart remark floating around in the back of Lex's brain, but he let it stay there. He could see in Nurse Norma's eyes that Isis had just moved up in priority, but that didn't make him feel better. Guilty, yes. Better, no. He kept that to himself too.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, I--"

He waved his hand. "Nothing to apologize for," he said wearily. "Your first estimation was right and--"

"Norma!"

They both turned to see Isis arched off the gurney, back bent sharp as a bow. Their hands were instantly on her, but despite the drugs in her system it was twice as hard to keep her down.

"Is anyone awake in here," Norma shouted. "I said restraints _now!_ Carol, get over here and stabilize here head."

An imposing honey-blond with large hands gently cupped Isis' face, keeping her from hurting herself more. The woman suddenly jumped back.

"Carol, what do you think you're-- Oh my God," Nurse Norma murmured, seeing what her nurse had seen.

"What!" Lex demanded. But then he saw it too. On Isis' left cheek were four long bloody gashes. Gashes that, moments ago, had been four thin, nearly healed scabs.

The nurse turned to Norma. "I didn't _do_ anything--"

"Not now, Carol. Gotta hold her down until-- Marco here! Get her legs. Mr. Luthor, her right side please."

Together the four of them had Isis secured to the bed in under thirty seconds. And yet she struggled. Nurse Norma turned sharp eyes on Lex. "What was she taking?"

"Peppermints."

"Now's not the time to play cute, Mr. Luthor. The only patients I get in Emergency needing restraints are psychopaths, trauma victims and addicts so, unless you'd there's something in your friend's medical history you'd like to share, tell me what she's been taking." She took a deep breath. "It's the only way we'll be able to treat her."

It was only Nurse Norma's concern that kept Lex's anger from crashing in a wave of fury. I assure you that, unless Isis has been using without my knowledge, she is as clean as you and I."

Nurse Norma looked over her shoulder as Marco and Carol wheeled Isis into the observation wing of the Emergency Room. "Is it possible she's having an allergic reaction?"

"She isn't allergic to anything as far as I know." Then he remembered…

Nurse Norma understood the change that come over his face instantly. "What?"

He sighed. "About four months ago Isis was kidnapped. Her abductors slapped a Captain Tripps patch on her."

"Where?"

"Back of her neck."

Nurse Norma bit back an oath. "You said three-- no, four months ago? Even the trace elements will be gone from her system."

Lex paused. Then: "It was nearly pure."

Nurse Norma did swear then. "Insidious little designer bastard." Their heads turned as EMTs wheeled in another emergency -- a bleeder. "Check in with the nurses' station, Mr. Luthor. Someone will update you." Nurse Norma touched his arm briefly before joining the battle to save life.

Suddenly very tired, Lex went back to the little waiting area. The mother and daughter were still there, but the nervous magazine flipper had disappeared. Almost as an afterthought, Lex pulled out his wireless phone and dialed the Kents. He didn't know the Rosses number offhand, but he was sure one of them would.

§§§

Lex felt a hand on his left shoulder. He looked up into Martha Kent's face. "You should go home, Lex."

"I have Matthews bringing my work to the hospital. I'll be fine."

"You don't need to _work_ Lex. You need to rest," Martha retorted. "You've been sitting in this hospital for almost twelve hours. It's late you're exhausted." She smoothed her hand over his head in a motherly fashion. It took a supreme act of will to keep from kissing his forehead. "Besides, soon you'll begin to smell."

Lex managed a smile. "Not if the janitorial staff disinfects me first."

A tender smile gracing her own face, Martha sat on Lex's left, enfolding his hand in both hers. Their knees touched. "You care very much for Isis, don't you Lex?"

"She's become a good friend, yes."

The frown that creased the line between her eyes never made it to her mouth when she called him a liar. "My son may be too inexperienced to understand the subtle byplay between a man and woman, but I have some experience in trying to conceal a roman or two. You can't tell me what you feel for Isis is simply friendship. Or that that's all she feels for you."

When Lex didn't reply, Martha continued softly: "No matter what Lionel may have taught you, love is a strength not a weakness. It's what Jon and I have always tried to teach Clark."

Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Ke--"

Martha squeezed his hand. "Don't push me away Lex. I'll just drag you along after me."

He managed a chuckle.

Her gaze flickered past his head and, although her expression never changed, she seemed to glow suddenly

Lex turned and looked over his shoulder. Clark and Jonathan were at the far end of the hall. Well that explains the glow, he thought.

"Look, Lex, you don't have to admit your feelings to me or anyone else. At least…at least be honest with yourself, Lex. And Isis. I think you both deserve that, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied very seriously, eyes too-honest wide as he watched her stand.

Martha didn't resist kissing his forehead then. She caressed the right side of his head, and Lex thought that if he'd had hair she would have just ran her head through it.

"Ready to go, hon?"

She turned to Jonathan. Nodded. Turned back to Lex. "We'll drop you off, Lex."

There wasn't even a moment's hesitation to Jonathan's. "Sure. You need some rest, son." Jonathan had always been partial to love-struck fools. Especially the suffering kind.

Lex stood slowly, ignoring Clark's hopeful, open smile. "Your wife is a very tenacious woman, Mr. Kent."

"Don't I know it. So…the truck can hold three easy, but someone's going to have to ride in out in the cab. Clark, what do you say? Up for a wind--"

"That's all right. My driver was already on his way for an entirely different errand, but I appreciate the offer. Goodnight." Then, as an afterthought: "Thank you for coming. I'll call tomorrow, Clark."

Martha hugged Lex quickly. "If you see Janice or Mark before you go, give them our best and let them know we're praying for them."

"Will do. Goodnight." Lex waited until they were out of sight before pulling out his wireless phone.

Some time later when he saw the panted legs on the other side of his open laptop, Lex already had his argument for why he should be allowed to stay past visiting hours ready. He closed the laptop and looked up.

Nurse Norma -- _Doctor_ Norma, he amended -- was looking down at him, holding standard white bedding in her arms. "Judge Ross had an early morning trial. Mr. Ross is staying in a room reserved for family. You can have the other bed if you'd like."

"Thank you, Doctor, but I'll be fine here for now."

She perched on the chair next to Lex's. "You'll be no good to Isis if you make yourself sick worrying about her."

"I assure you, Doctor, that I have more than a little experience with hospital sleepovers. I know my limits."

"And I have exceeded mine. Luckily my shift is over," she said, rising. She set the bedding in her now vacant seat. "Goodnight, Mr. Luthor. Try to get some rest."

He gave her his professional smile, not because he didn't appreciate her concern, but because he was too weary for anything else. Doctor Norma seemed to understand.

§§§

Clark had always liked staying over at the Rosses. By the time his parents had finally deemed him Sleepover Save, the two eldest Ross kids were both in college, so Clark always had a bed if he wanted one. Needless to say he was happy Same and Kathy were so close in age. Just because Kathy was the only Ross girl didn't mean she wasn't a girly-girl and there was no way Clark was sleeping surrounded by pink froth.

Usually, though, the sleepovers were less tense experiences than this. "You sure you want to stay over, son?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm sure." He shrugged. "I gotta do something, you know? I'd feel pretty useless just sitting around the farm."

"Speaking of useless: make sure you stop by to do your chores in the morning."

Clark groaned. "Yes, sir." He got out the truck, kissing his mom goodbye, and waved until they were out of sight.

Chloe opened the door before he could knock. "What took you so long?"

"Wha-- What are you doing here?"

"Keeping Pete company, _obviously_. Now are you going to come inside or just let all the heat out of the house?"

Clark hastily stepped in and aside, allowing Chloe to close the door behind him. She shivered audibly.

"Hey," Clark said as she came around to face him, "sorry about that. Here, let me help you out." Almost roughly, Clark ran his hands up and down Chloe's arms, using the motion to cover the use of his heat vision. "How's that?"

"Great," Chloe answered faintly. She hoped Clark mistook her blush for sudden warmth. "Pete's, uh, in here."

Pete stood as they entered. "Hey, man." They clapped hands in the way that passed for a male hug. Chloe shook her head as she plopped down in the middle of the couch.

"Hey. So what's going on?" Clark sat on Chloe's left.

Still standing, Pete said, "Me and Clo were trying to figure out a movie--"

"My vote's for _Heathers_. I mean cliques, love, 'suicide', teen angst and two pretty people who's lives have since become a shambles. Tell me that not only isn't this movie based on Smallville High, but that it's also complete wish fulfillment." She turned from Pete to Clark. "Did I mention all the cool kids die?" She was met with silence. "Including Christian Slater?"

"Forgot that part," Pete said, turning around to find the DVD.

Clark turned his head toward the kitchen.

"Whatcha looking at, Clark?" Chloe asked. "Staring's not gonna make the food get up and walk to y--"

Janice Ross popped here head out the kitchen doorway. "Hey are you guys hungry?"

"Or maybe in your case it will," Chloe muttered.

Twisting on his heels, Pete shook his head. "I think we're okay, Mom."

"All right. I pulled down the popcorn box if you guys change your mind. Chloe, did you get yourself settled in Kathy's old room."

Chloe nodded.

"Good. I have to make an early start tomorrow so I'm headed off to bed. Don't stay up too late you three. You still have school tomorrow. Goodnight."

" 'Night Mrs. Ross." "Night Mom." Pete plopped himself back on the couch next to Chloe. "So how long until we get see Winona Ryder kick Christian Slater's butt?"

When Janice Ross came downstairs the next morning, bleary-eyed and caffeine-deprived, she found them asleep on the couch, the DVD menu screen asking which scene they would like to start from.

§§§

Wednesday, February 12th

"How is she, Lex?"

"She's peaceful Mr. Ross." Lex failed to qualify that, although Isis was not physically restless, her mind was still working overtime. He thought he should spare her father that.

"I wish…"

"I understand, sir. I'll keep you updated."

Sigh. "Thank you, Lex."

Closing his phone, Lex looked up and through the observation window. Clark and Pete were in there with her.

"How long until Luthor chauffeurs us back to school in that fancy car of his?"

"Pete…I thought you had buried your Lex-hatchet."

"Did," he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of Isis limp hand. Had it not been for the rapid flickering of her eyes beneath their lids, he could have imagined that she was at peace. "But sometimes its comforting to hold on to old hatreds, Clark."

Before could work his mind around the massive block that had suddenly formed there, Pete said, "Anyway, Lex is just handy you know? He didn't do this…Dylan Strauss did."

"Wha-- Huh? How do you figure that?"

Pete looked up at Clark, Isis' limp hand still in his. "I just _know_, man. They've been at each other's throats from day one, and Dylan looked way too smug today."

"He's hardly been around at all, Pete," Clark reminded him.

"Yeah, but when he--"

Isis' hand spasmed around Pete's.

There was a knock on the door. The boys looked up at Lex standing in the doorway. "Time to go, guys. Gotta get you back to school."

Isis' hand was once more slack. Pete leaned over and brushed a kiss across her forehead. "We'll find a way to stop him," he promised in a hushed whisper.

§§§

Setting the oversized mug in front of Chloe, Lana told her, "This one's on the house. Clo, are you okay? I mean, not that I begrudge the patronage or anything, but I think you just paid the light bill for the next month."

"Ha ha, Lana," Chloe grumped. "So sue me, I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Guess that explains why you were nodding off in Spanish."

"And English and Trig and just about every other class I had today." Chloe took a long sip of her coffee. "Lana hang up your tiara and straight for the glowing aura: you are a Coffee Goddess."

"It's not _that_ good, Chloe." But, privately, Lana was pleased. "Hey, so on a totally random note: What do you think of Pete?" Lana asked, resting her elbows on the counter. At least she'd be able to alleviate _one_ of Pete's concerns.

Chloe's eyebrows jumped to her bangs. "I think he's a great guy. Of course he's one of my best friends so admittedly I'm a little biased."

"So no thoughts that involve you, Pete and candlelight, huh?"

"Me, Pete and candle-- What? No! Pete's my _best friend_, Lana. Why would you… Oooh."

"Oh? What 'oh?'"

"I get it now."

A flush began to quickly stain Lana's cheeks. "Chloe, please, it's not what you think--"

"You like Pete, don't you?"

Lana's shocked silence was an unwitting confirmation as far as Chloe was concerned. The blond shrugged. "Personally I think you two'd make a cute couple. Now that I think about it that is."

"Oookay, uh, not what I was going for," Lana said, blush still hot on her face. She pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear.

"Don't worry. I know how to keep a secret."

"Oh God," Lana muttered as she went back to the kitchen.

"Hey, Chloe."

The blond jumped as if she had been burned. "H-Hi, Dylan."

His smile, Chloe thought, held a little too much malicious glee to be welcoming or sincere. "Can I get a frapaccino?" he asked the girl behind the bar, as he slid onto the stool next to Chloe's "So…how's it going?"

"F-Fine. Fine. Thanks Dylan." Her throat closing in on itself, Chloe slowly began to slide off her stool. "I, uh, have to go, Dylan. Gotta get the paper ready to print you know." She was completely off the stool now.

"I thought the paper didn't go to print till Friday night when the printers came to pick up the hardcopy."

Chloe stopped short. The only people who knew the print schedule for _The Torch _were its staff and the school administration, and not even Principal Kwan knew all the technicalities.

"Chloe?"

_"Aah!"_ She turned and hit Pete hard, then stormed out _The Talon_.

Pete and Clark watched her go. "Wonder what that was all about," Clark mused aloud.

"Oh you know girls."

They turned to Dylan, who had spoken. Pete began walking toward him. "What about'em?"

Dylan smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know, Ross. By the way, how's your cuz, Isis?" Frapaccino in hand, he hopped off the stool ready to find another seat.

Before anyone could move, or even know what he was going to do, Pete had Dylan in a headlock, the frothy frapaccino crashing to the floor.

"Pete! Pete, man, let him go."

Dylan seemed amused.

"Look, Clark, I know he's the one behind this--"

"Oh do you? Ow!" But then Dylan began to giggle, completely undermining whatever sympathy he may have gained.

Hands raised and open, Clark approached the two of them, doing his best to ignore Dylan. "Pete…we don't have any proof."

"Yeah, listen to your friend Clark, Pete. _You_ don't have any proof."

"Yet!" Pete said as he released the person he was sure had put Isis in a coma.

"Ever."

§§§

Thursday, Feb 13th

"Now's not a good time, Dad." Lex lifted his laptop from his lap and set it in the hard hospital chair, holding his clamshell wireless phone to his ear with his shoulder.

_"Why not son. I thought you'd be delighted to see me."_

Making a face as he left Isis' room, Lex replied, "Under normal circumstances, I'm sure I would."

_"Are things not going well with the fledgling_ LexCorp_?"_

Another face: a grimace. "Business is fine, Dad." Lex wondered if his good cheer sounded as forced as it felt. He doubted it. He'd been lying to his father for almost as long as he had been alive.

_"Then now is the perfect."_

Speaking of false cheer…

"One of my employees is in the hospital."

_"Can this illness be traced back to you?"_

"As far as I know I didn't cause it." _Although the thought had crossed my mind. _

"Then there is no need for concern. Whoever this person is, their family will take care of it."

"This person is a very important part of my administrative staff." Before his father could butt in with more sage advice, or probing questions, Lex continued: "Who is also very dear to the workers in my factory. Since that constitutes a large portion of the town, I would rather not antagonize anyone by seeming callous to her situation."

_"This person you're paying such special attention to is a woman?"_

Lex hadn't meant to let the pronoun slip. Maybe it was time to take everyone's advice and go home and get some real rest. "She is indeed, Dad. Women are just as prone to sickness as men. Or had you forgotten." A low blow, but at the soft intake of breath on the other end of the line Lex knew it had been effective.

_"What an ill-mannered thing for you to say, Lex."_

"You were the one who told me that there are no manners in business, Dad, except for the cutting kind." Lex switched ears as his wireless phone grew hot.

_"I believe what I told you, Lex, was to leave your heart outside the negotiating room."_

"Same difference."

Indignantly: _"Indeed. So…we shall simply have to wait until this indispensable employee of yours is on her feet."_

"So it would seem."

_"Until then, Lex."_

"Good-bye, Dad." Lex wasn't sure who hung up first.

§§§

Chloe kicked the hospital coffee dispenser in futile anger.

"Which is the exact reason why I brought this."

Chloe turned, a smile already splitting her face. "Lana, you are an angel sent from Heaven itself."

"So I've been told," she answered with a smile. "I'm surprised you bothered with one of those things at all." She handed Chloe a cup.

The blond took a moment to savor the delicious scent before taking a sip. "I take back any mean thing I've ever yelled at you through the bathroom door in the mornings."

Lana smirked. "See how long that lasts."

"_Any_way…the cafeteria is closed and I was starting to get desperate."

"Huh. So…has Lex really been just about non-stop since Isis collapsed?"

"Far as I can tell."

"So do you think…"

Chloe's eyebrows rose in speculation. "It's anyone's guess. I mean they _were_ friends back in Metropolis."

"Chloe you know Lex is the first one to admit he didn't have any real friends before Clark saved him from drowning."

"Hey, who's the investigative reporter here?"

"Guess you're starting to rub off on me, Clo."

"You can be 'Friday.'"

"Friday?"

"Yeah, you know from all those old gumshoe movies? The secretary. She always has some cute, albeit strange, name."

It was Lana's turn for her eyebrows to climb. "Friday."

"Well someone has to make the coffee."

Hospital staff rushed past them, nearly causing Chloe and Lana, who still had a tray of tall cups in her hand, to spill their coffee. "Wonder where the fire is," Chloe mused.

Lana shrugged.

Slowly they strolled down the hall back in the direction of Isis' room.

§§§

Pete and Clark turned as Lex's phone buzzed audibly. Clark was surprised that his friend heard it over the hums and beeps of all the machinery in the room, but he figured that after a while you began to tune it out. Lex certainly seemed to have no trouble.

"Hold on one moment-- If you will excuse me," Lex said perfunctorily as he left the room.

"Jeez, I thought he'd never leave."

Clark glanced out the observation window. "Well you know Chloe said her dad said that Lex has hardly been in the office since this happened, and he definitely hasn't been home the last two times I went to make deliveries." Looking down sadly at Isis, Clark took her limp hand. "I think he blames himself."

"And much as I'd like to help him pack for that guilt-trip, I know it's not really Lex's fault." Pete sighed. He turned and sat in one of the hard orange-plastic chairs at the foot of the bed. "I just don't know how to prove it, man."

"Prove that this is Dylan Strauss' fault?"

_"Yeah."_

"Sorry, Pete. Neither do--" Clark gaped in sudden pain.

Pete jumped up. "Clark! What's wrong!"

_"Isis!"_

Pete glanced to the head of the bed, his mouth dropping open in a soundless O. Isis' eyes were open, but they were glowing a green both darker and brighter than his mother's emerald earrings. "Isis," he breathed.

"Pete!"

Pete's attention whipped around to Clark. Who was sweating, green veins popping out all over his skin, concentrated where his hand was clenched tightly in Isis'. "Oh man!" He glanced from Isis' still open, still glowing green eyes, to Clark's obvious pain. "Oh man! What should I do?"

"Get her off me."

As if the On switch had been turned, Pete immediately sprang into action, leaping to where Clark stood and helping him try to pry Isis's hand from his friend's. "Come on Ice. You don't wanna do this," he said as he tried to work his fingers between their hands without causing any damage. "Please Isis…just let'im go."

"She can't…can't hear…" Clark collapsed.

"What the--" Lex stood in the doorway, aghast.

"Clark just collapsed outta nowhere! Help me!"

Lex dashed into the room, but instead of reaching for Clark he hit the emergency button over Isis' head, then he came to Pete's side. Isis' hand went slack. Lex glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed.

"So you saw it too?"

Lex turned to Pete. "Saw what?"

"Her eyes."

"They were green.

"So you saw it then," Pete repeated.

"I guess so."

The hospital staff burst in. "He collapsed," Lex said, repeating the lie Pete had told him although it was obvious, to Pete at least, that he knew something more had happened. Unfortunately neither was sure what that was quite yet.

§§§

Early Friday, Feb. 14th, Valentine's Day

"Tell us again what happened."

Sparing Pete another round of interrogations, Lex pushed himself off the wall in the hospital staff breakroom-cum-interrogation room. "Look, Dr. Norma, Pete and I have already explained what happened."

"So one moment young Mr. Kent is holding Miss Ross' hand and the next he's collapsed beside the bed."

"Precisely."

"Just the way your girlfriend collapsed," she said, lips pressed thin.

"It seems so. Perhaps its something you should look into, Doctor," he replied casually.

"We already are." Sighing she turned to Jonathan and Martha who had their arms around each other. "There's nothing else to find here. I suggest you two go home and get some rest."

Jonathan nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. You'll--"

"Yes, I'll have someone call you if there's any change in your son's condition." And with that she turned on her heel and left the little breakroom kitchenette.

"Mr. Kent…Mrs. Kent--"

Pete didn't get any further as Jonathan held up a hand. "We understand. It's not your fault and there's nothing that you could have done to stop…this. C'mon, we already told your parents that we'd bring you home."

Martha wrapped her arms around Pete's shoulders as he passed them to leave, leaning her red-brown head against his.

"I also want to thank you, Lex."

Lex raised faint eyebrows. "I didn't do anything worth thanking."

Walking slowly, Jon led the way out the small room. "If you hadn't reacted so quickly… Because of you the hospital staff were able to get Clark stabilized and sedated." They both knew he was lying. Like Isis, Clark had fought, thrashing so hard that it took a number of orderlies, Lex and Pete to keep him down. Until he'd suddenly stopped.

§§§

Chloe glanced up from the email she'd been trying over and over to read. It was just a short note from Chad the Goth, but that was about all she knew. Pete and Lana stood in the doorway talking intently. They really did make a cute couple, Chloe thought. She tried again to read the email.

"Hey, Chloe." Lana was unusually demure with her hands pressed into her pants pockets. "So, uh, I guess you heard."

Nodding, Chloe said, "Yeah, Pete told me. Guess that means we're making two stops at Smallville General."

Lana sighed. "Looks like it."

"You know what the crazy thing is? I had a dream about Clark and Isis last night. He looked kinda green."

"Didn't you say you'd been dreaming about Isis since before?"

"Mmhmm."

"That _is_ strange, Clo." The morning bell rang. "I'll talk to you later, Chloe. I gotta go to homeroom."

"Okay. See you around, Lana." Sighing Chloe tried reading the email from Chad yet again.

He was asking her out on a date.

§§§

Lex's left hand shot into the pockets of his slacks to stop the incessant buzzing of his cell phone. He glanced at the caller ID glowing a sickly green in the dim light of Isis' hospital room.

_Meeting_, it read.

Frowning at it, Lex reached blindly for his PDA on the nightstand by Isis' head. When his hand closed around it, it too was buzzing. He opened the appointment blinking at him. A meeting in Edge City. If he was going to be there on time he had to leave that moment.

Swearing softly Lex stood, leant over the bed and kissed Isis' forehad.

He was surprised Mrs-- Lex's phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the caller ID then flipped the wireless phone open, taking the call. "I know Mrs. Cauldhaumme. I'm on my way to the parking lot as we speak."

"Very good, Mr. Luthor."

"I'll be stopping by the office before I go to Edge City. Have Matthews--"

"Your butler already brought a change of clothing."

"You think of everything, Mrs. Cauldhaumme."

"It's what you pay me for, sir."

"Indeed."

§§§

"I already know this trick, Dylan," Isis said wearily. "Your imagination is beginning to wane."

Eyebrows climbing into his bangs, Clark protested: "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not Dylan."

_"Listen to Kent."_

Clark's head shot up, looking for the source of Dylan's voice.

"Somehow you managed to pull the farmboy into your dreams. How's it feel to know that you're now responsible for two deaths, Izzy."

"Stop calling me that!" She clutched her hands to her ears. Her screams ripped the air.

Clark turned. Isis' hair had become snakes. And they were biting her hands.

§§§

Late Afternoon

Pete wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve.

"Now I see why you and Clark are best friends," Martha said as she took his now-empty milk glass to his sink.

"Sorry, Mrs. Kent."

"No need to apologize, Pete." She took a seat next to Jonathan, across from Pete. "So tell us what really happened last night."

"Mrs. Kent, Mr. Kent, I wish I knew."

"Pete," Jonathan began, "our son's in a coma. _Clark's_ in a coma," he said as if that was question enough.

It was. "All I know is that one minute me and Clark were talking about Dylan Strauss--"

"Why Dylan?" Jon wanted to know.

"I think he did this to Isis somehow."

Jon: "Why do you say that." Martha: "You think he's responsible for Clark, too?"

Pete looked more skeptical than ever. "I-I don't know actually. It's just a feeling really. Dylan's never liked Isis, not since that first day she subbed for a class of ours. And lately he's just been really smug."

Jon and Martha shared a look. "That's not enough to convict someone on."

"I know. I _know_. But lately he's been slipping. He mentions stuff only people who have been going to the hospital everyday."

"Is it possible this Dylan person's been visiting Isis without your knowing?" Jon asked.

Pete shook his head vehemently. "Lex would have said something. I mean, Isis and Clark aside, Dylan's a creepy guy. If he'd been there, Lex would have mentioned it."

"Did this Dylan boy have something against Clark?" Martha asked.

"Don't think so."

"Then how, _why_ would he do something to Clark?"

Frowning Pete admitted he wasn't sure. Dylan was responsible for Clark's coma. "At least not directly. Remember back when Isis was kidnapped and the drugs those goons slapped on her turned out to be laced with meteor rocks?"

"Of course." Martha glanced at her husband. "Clark couldn't go near Isis until it was all out of her system. Just getting near her made him nauseous."

"Well I just remembered that Isis' eyes were open just before Clark collapsed."

Jonathan: "What does that--"

"They were green. And they were green before too. Me and Clark were the only ones who saw it that first time because everyone else had either left or were somewhere else in the house." Pete's words began to tumble over each other as he developed his theory on the spot. "What if, somehow, Isis didn't get all the meteor rock out of her system."

"Clark's been fine all this time, Pete."

"But what if what's left in her body is just trace elements. Or what if it mutated her somehow. _That_ would explain why Clark collapsed."

"Not if she's only carrying trace elements like you said," Jon pointed out.

Pete spread his hands. "I don't know. What if…what if something…something happened to trigger them or intensify the trace elements." Pete's eyes narrowed, his voice taking on a note of wonder: "Isis hasn't been right since the kidnapping. What if Dylan's been attacking her mentally somehow _because_ of the meteor rocks in her system and its something he's _doing_ in her head that's activated the meteor rocks."

"As if they were dormant when not…activated," Jon said skeptically, "by some outside force?"

"Yeah."

Martha: "That would mean Dylan's a meteor mutant, Pete."

"You know his mom took him to this research center for sleeping disorders in England last year." Pete had latched onto the idea. "Yeah…I bet because of her new body chemistry Isis has something Dylan needs or wants, and I bet every time he takes it from her it causes one of these flare-ups. And no one would notice if its happening in her sleep--"

"Especially since Clark is the only one would be effected."

§§§

Clark didn't hesitate. He grabbed the snakes attacking Isis and yanked them from her hands.

"No! Clark!"

Instead of snakes, in his hands were Isis' green-gold braids. "Ice, I'm-- _Sssss!_" Clark jerked his hand away from her head. A metallic green snake hissed at him from the nest of her hair. It dropped from her head and slithered away.

"One of Dylan's," Isis said by way of explanation.

"But weren't…weren't…" Clark stumbled.

"Clark!"

§§§

Early Evening

"You know I think this is the first time I've been able to catch you without that phone of yours stuck to your ear."

Lex looked up from his laptop, plugged in beside Isis' bed, at Dr. Norma. "That's not true. Sometimes I use an earpiece."

"Very funny, Mr. Luthor. I think you already know what I think of your brand of humor.

"Oddly enough it seems to be a quite common reaction." Lex closed his laptop. He set it on the floor beside his feet. "Can I help you, Doctor, or is this a social call?"

"Not social, although I would like to have a word with you about your girlfriend."

Lex's lips tightened slightly, but he didn't correct her about his relationship to Isis. "What would you like to know, Dr. Norma?"

"Well to start, why didn't you bring Isis in earlier. If not to the Emergency Room then at least to a doctor to have her checked out."

"I'm sorry… As far as I know Isis was in perfect health until she collapsed in the snow."

"Then you haven't been paying attention," Dr. Norma said, taking a seat across from Lex. "Her blood sugar's so high I'm surprised she hasn't collapsed on you already-"

"So this all happened because Isis has had too much candy?"

"No, Mr. Luthor, which is strange enough considering she could give a vampire a toothache. Which…her teeth are also beginning to show the first signs of rot if something isn't done soon. Her caffeine levels are inordinately high. Everything else, on the other hand…far below what they should be. Lucky for us Miss Ross was scheduled for a check-up just after relocating to Smallville and we have her medical records."

Dr. Norma leaned forward. "Mr. Luthor, your girlfriend was in perfect health not four months ago. There are workaholics who take better care of themselves. Frankly if I didn't know better I'd think your friend was a junky--"

"That's a bit harsh--"

"Blood tests don't lie. They may present us with uninterpretable information, but then its our job to figure out its meaning. Miss Ross' blood shows elevated amounts of sugar, caffeine and other over-the-counter stimulants. Tell me, have you noticed erratic behavior, lack of appetite and/or strange sleeping patterns?"

Lex's silence was answer enough.

"I'm telling you right now that the only reason the woman in that bed isn't an emaciated _mess_ is because she takes better care of herself than any junky could -- exercising and probably popping multi-vitamins like candy. _Along_ with the caffeine pills and whatever else she's been taking to stay awake."

Lex thought about the pill box in Isis' messenger bag, the candy wrappers he always found littering his desk if she had been working there; the sweet smell she had; the taste of candy and coffee on her lips. He passed a hand over his face. "I've been bus--"

"Too busy to notice what was going on with your girlfriend?"

"Apparently, Doctor."

Exhaling heavily through her nose, Dr. Norma pushed herself out of the deep and uncomfortable chair. "I didn't tell you this to convict you, Mr. Luthor--"

Lex's smile was gentle. Almost teasing. "Come, Dr. Norma, no need to pull punches now."

"No matter what you may think, Mr. Luthor, I genuinely care about my patients. Which includes the people who care about them. I've seen too many husbands, too many wives and parents wracked with guilt when I've had the unfortunate job of telling them that if they'd only been paying attention to their loved ones, he or she would be alive and with them right now."

Dr. Norma glanced at Isis. "Like I said, the abuse isn't what got her here…this time. But if _you_ don't do something or put her in the care of someone who will, I promise you Miss Ross will be right back here and not doing half as well."

§§§

Isis rushed to Clark's side, sidestepping the boulders of the bleak landscape. "Are you all right?" she asked, falling to her knees beside him. She watched in horror as green veins began to appear, traveling from the bite wound between his thumb and forefinger outward.

His hand clenched convulsively. "I thought…I thought you said the snakes were just your hair."

"They were. Except that last one. That last one was something of Dylan's."

_"Listen to the woman. She knows of whence she speaks,"_ came Dylan's ubiquitous voice. It was followed by an unflattering laugh.

Isis ignored him. "Are you allergic to something?" she asked as she pushed the sleeve of his jacket up to track the progress of the snake's venom. It was moving fast. And he wasn't answering her. "Clark!"

He blinked up at her as his weight settled back on his legs. "One thing."

"Is it bad?" The venom was crawling past the bend of his elbow. "The reaction, Clark, is it _bad_?"

It was past his elbow now. Moving fast. Isis couldn't push the shirt up any further, not with his windbreaker on. _"Clark!"_

"It's fatal."

Isis yanked his shirt open -- the jacket already was. Ignoring the buttons flying at her face and bouncing off her glasses, she pushed the red, blue and white plaid shirt along with his navy windbreaker off his shoulders. But the venom had beat her there. It had split into two branches, one traveling up toward Clark's brain, the other toward his heart. "Oh God…"

Acting on worried instinct, Isis slid around him, pulling Clark's shirt down further as she went. He almost followed his clothing down. The sight that greeted her was all her worst fears. Really, why shouldn't Clark barely be able to stand if the venom was only in his right arm? Maybe because it was also riddled across his back.

"Is it bad?"

When she came around to face Clark there was a line of green curling around his jaw.

"Clark, if you don't do exactly what I say, you're going to die."

§§§

It was late. The hospital staff had long-since stopped trying to persuade Lex to leave at night. "Only family allowed," they'd said.

"I'm the only family she has available," he'd replied.

"Our records show--"

"That Janet Ross is a busy judiciary. Mark Ross is an attorney and they have three children to take care of. As the person Miss Ross was staying with at the time of her accident, as well as being independently wealthy, I am the only 'family-member' who is available."

Had they kept pushing he would have reminded them that the Luthors were Smallville General's biggest contributors and had been for some years. But they hadn't. So he hadn't. Someone brought him extra pillows. Someone else offered to make up a guest bed for him.

Lex declined everything but the pillows. Even before his little discussion with Dr. Norma he'd felt guilty. Now he knew he was.

Swearing softly he stood and went to the window. Isis' prone body was reflected back at him. He swore again.

Turning back, he crossed the room to the bed. In the strangely dim lighting of the hospital room Isis' face was a strange mottling of dark splotches as if she were recovering from a beating. Lex remembered the frowns of the nurse who had come to check her pressure. He knew that she was deteriorating at a fairly steady rate, something he and the Rosses had decided, in unspoken agreement, to keep from her father for the time being. "Has something changed?" he'd asked the nurse anxiously, thinking her condition had worsened markedly without his noticing.

"Do you remember if these marks were here around her collarbone earlier?"

Dutifully Lex had gotten up to look at the area the nurse had pointed out to him. Blotchy, vaguely finger-shaped marks marred her otherwise smooth complexion. "No I don't. Except the scratch marks, Isis was untouched when I brought her in."

The nurse had pursed her lips but continued taking the vital signs as usual. Lex, however, had become much more observant. Just before his talk with Dr. Norma, he'd discovered a small cut seeping blood on her upper arm, but before he could call a nurse it was scabbed over. When he checked it later, it had healed with only a faint scar to mark its place. Not an hour ago bit wounds, as if from a snake or some other fanged creature, had appeared on the backs of her hands. Now they too were fading.

Lex smoothed the fine hairs curling at the edges of Isis' face. Her skin felt cool and thin under his fingertips even as her eyes continued to dance under their lids. Remember something his mother used to do when he was feverish, Lex pressed his lips to Isis' forehead. Beneath the sensitive skin she was markedly cooler than she should have been. The touch had become a kiss.

"I love you, Isis."

§§§

As sure as she was of her own name, Isis was sure that if the green veins of poison reached either Clark's head or heart he would die. And not just in her, in this nightmare-scape they were trapped in, but wherever his physical body now resided.

Isis tentatively put her hands on Clark's back. He radiated fire. Slowly, by degrees, she felt him resting more and more of his weight on her hands.

"Clark…Clark, you have to listen to me."

"It hurts."

"I know. I know it does, Clark-bar, but you have to stay conscious or you're gonna die." Her hands were almost level with her body, he was leaning so much on her. She slipped them away and the transfer of his weight to her upper body was almost seamless.

"Clark, I know it doesn't seem like it, but this is all happening in your mind. My mind," she amended. "The things that are happening to your body aren't really happening. Dylan can manipulate your dreams, the things you see and feel while you're here, but he can't hurt _you_ directly. Not unless you let him." It was hard to see down the lines of his body, but Isis thought she could see the veins coming around his stomach and ribcage to attack his heart from all sides. If she just skimmed the surface of his skin she could feel them like smooth braille under her fingertips. Over and over she read Death.

§§§

A shrill emergency alarm snapped Lex out of sleep. The bite marks on Isis' now noticeably cold hands had returned. Lex frowned at them momentarily before going to the door to see what the commotion was about.

The usually quiet hall was alive with activity. Lex grabbed the arm of a passing male resident. "What's going on?"

The resident doctor shook Lex's arm off and continued his sprint down the hall.

Leaning out the doorway, Lex watched him, tracking his progress until he disappeared inside a room. Brow furrowed as a suspicious thought curled like ivy around his mind, Lex pushed himself out the door and began walking toward the beehive of activity.

"He's going to anaphylactic shock!"

Lex was sprinting down the hall.

"What's he allergic to?"

"There's nothing on his chart."

"Then how--!"

There was a painful silence.

"Five cc's of adrenaline!"

In his fine shoes, Lex almost lost his footing as skid to a stop. He caught the edge of the door just in time to watch the male resident doctor he'd stopped moments ago plunge a long syringe into Clark's chest.

§§§

Isis manipulated Clark's body so she could see his face. The green veins, curling over and around like vines of ivy, made a perfect frame for his now sallow features. "Clark, you are stronger than this!"

"Isis?"

His sweat-soaked, vein-riddled torso was no half-on and half-off her lap. She swept his damp curling hair from his forehead.

"It hurts."

"I know, Clark."

"I don't want to die, Isis."

"Then _fight_ him. _Fight_ this. It's your body. You're mind. Dylan's just the poison in it."

_"Tch, tch…"_ Dylan's voice came in a breeze around them.

As if they had always been there, Isis noticed the long grass, bending in the wind of Dylan's presence, around them. Leaves went dancing onto the still-calm surface of a lake beside them as Clark gasped for air to breathe. Isis looked down. The scrolling green vines surrounded his throat.

§§§

"No change, Doctor."

"Another 5 cc's and ready the paddles."

§§§

Isis' hands flew over Clark's heart as if her flesh and blood could stop what was happening.

_"Telling all my secrets, Izzy?"_

"Stop calling me that," she growled. "You have no right."

_"I'll call you whatever I--"_

All sound suddenly stopped. Clark craned his neck, eyes rolling wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened. Glimmering over them he saw something that looked vaguely like a dome over his and Isis' heads. "What…" Leaves were skittering down its edges.

"Soundproofing. See what I can do, Clark? As long as I'm strong enough to maintain it, Dylan can talk he wants but it won't matter. You have to take control if you want it Clark." Isis could feel the green vein-vines creeping closer, trying to nuzzle under her hands to Clark's heart.

"You can make this stop, Clark--"

§§§

"No effect, Doctor. We're losing him!"

"Ready the paddles!"

§§§

"--but your will has to be stronger than his!" The vine-veins began to creep along her skin, trying to infect Isis to no affect. Whatever Clark was deathly allergic to, it was obvious Isis wasn't.

"Don't you dare--"

Isis felt as if someone were drawing all the energy of her body out through her hands. She looked down. Where Clark's heart should have been, Isis' hands had sunk into his flesh in a swirl of chocolate and sun-burnt gold. And the green veins were retreating.

"Yes Clark. Yes, just like that."

§§§

"Clear!"

"Doctor, _no!_"

Every eye in the room shot around to the nurse standing beside the equipment monitoring Clark's condition.

"Nurse, we're los--"

"We're not! His vitals are picking up."

"What?" The resident doctor gave the cardio paddles back to the technician and burned to Clark's side, checking his vitals himself. Even as the young doctor lifted his stethoscope to his ears, it became obvious that it wasn't necessary. Lex watched as the feverish flush began to disappear from Clarks face and the sweat dried on his skin with all the mesmerizing alacrity of a time-elapsed film.

§§§

It was a good thing she was already sitting, Isis thought as she continued to stare at the spot where her hands disappeared into Clark's chest, because the vague faint feeling was growing stronger. But she kept feeding her will into him. The green veins that had been crawling under Clark's skin -- Dylan infecting him from the inside -- were receding backward faster than had been crawling forward. She wasn't going to be responsible for another death. Clark wasn't going to be another Anna Constantine.

Sound came flooding back as if someone had turned off the mute button, but Isis didn't hear it.

§§§

A klaxon began to sound down the hall. Lex's heart clenched in his chest. _No…_

"Another one?" the doctor called, slipping the stethoscope from his ears. By the time he made his way out of Clark's room and to the nurses' station to find out that the alarm had come from the other "coma patient," Lex was already by Isis' side, silently panicking. Though her eyes were open, the irises were green -- a glowing green that was fading rapidly as her lips turned blue.

§§§

Clark didn't know if it was the sudden return of sound that brought him fully to consciousness, or Isis slumping forward and to one side of his body.

"Isis?" She had fainted or blacked out.

"Aw, look who sacrificed herself for the good of others."

Clark's head shot up. Standing no more than ten feet away from him was Dylan. "What did you do to her?"

Dylan gave him a _Who me?_ look. "It's not what _I_ did, Kent. You were the one that sucked all the life energy out of her." He took a step forward. "I mean, sure I was draining her too but at least I was taking it slow. You know toying with her. Making it fun."

Clark rushed him.

Dylan laughed.

§§§

Lex was forced away from the bed and out the room with all the speed and efficiency of dirt under the paws of a burrowing mammal. He knew he should call the Rosses, let them know what was going on, but his phone was in the room. The room where Isis was dying.

Clenching his jaw, Lex shied away from that thought. He was going to start throwing dirt on her coffin until she was in the grave. Lex turned from the observation window and took a left turn to the waiting room. A few seconds of routing around blindly in his pants pockets produced some miscellaneous coins. He dialed the Ross number from memory.

§§§

Clark had the still laughing Dylan pinned to the ground. "What did you do to Isis?"

"That? That wasn't even _me_, Clark. I started it, but boy did you finish it."

Clark slammed Dylan's head into the ground.

Dylan laughed…the sound coming from behind Clark. "You know, she's pretty when she's unconscious. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing like watching her undress if front of the mirror--"

"There's no way you made it past Lex's security!"

"Who said anything about climbing over the gates," Dylan sneered. "I'm in…_here_!" He kicked Isis' head.

Clark flew at Dylan.

He was gone before Clark even got close. Disappeared.

_"Don't you _get it_, Kent? This isn't like before. This _isn't_ a lucid dream. I am aware, and that makes me a god!"_

§§§

Early Saturday, Feb. 15

Pete could hardly sit still. If he wasn't tapping his foot then he was twisting around on his stool at _The Talon_, and if he wasn't doing that then he was pulling his phone out of his pocket and inspecting the screen.

Lana set a glass of orange juice in front of Pete. "You're not gonna do anything but make yourself crazy with worry with the way you're going."

"It's not your cousin, Lana!" Pete was immediately contrite. "Look…I'm sorry, Lana. I didn't mean--"

"No, it's okay, Pete. I totally understand. If something ever happened to Aunt Ness and I couldn't see her I'd be a dragon too."

Pete hung his head. "I've been a dragon, huh?"

"Let's just say I won't be shaving anytime soon." Lana laughed at the flush that began to climb up Pete's cheeks. Laying a hand over his, she said, "Isis is gonna be okay, Pete. You'll see."

Their eyes met.

"Hey guys."

Lana jumped backward, grabbing a dishrag.

Pete turned. "Hey, Chloe." A "Hi Chloe" came faintly from Lana as she disappeared in the back.

"Hey. Any word on Isis?"

Pete shook his head.

"That sucks," she said as she took the stool next to him. "I'm sure she's okay. They'd call you if there was any change right?"

"Yeah…I guess so…"

"You'll see, Pete," Chloe said, laying her hand over his much the same as Lana had, "everything will be fine."

A frown crossed Pete's face. Where was the sudden skin-tingling rush of goosebumps he always got whenever Chloe touched him? He had gone numb had he? Or become completely desensitized or something? Pete pinched himself. "Ow!"

"Pete! What are you doing?"

No, not numb.

"Pete, are you alright?"

"Yeah, Ross--"

Chloe and Pete swiveled in their stools. They weren't the only people up early on a Saturday.

"--you alright? Your cousin certainly isn't," Dylan Strauss said.

Chloe barely caught the edge of Pete's heavy sweater in time. "You're just playing into him," she hissed.

"Oh I haven't forgotten about you either, Sullivan. Don't think I've forgotten about the Harvest Ball."

"What happened at the Harvest Ball?" she asked.

At that Dylan turned tomato red. He clenched his fists until none of them would have been surprised if blood had begun to drip from his palms -- Dylan looked like he was going to blow at any moment. Pete moved to stand in front of Chloe.

"All I asked you for, Sullivan, was one dance. You'd already turned me down to be my date, despite all my helpful prodding," Dylan said calmly. Far too calmly for Pete and Chloe's peace of mind.

"What's going on?" Lana asked as she returned from the kitchen with a tray of fruit danishes.

Everyone ignored her as Dylan continued: "But you _ignored_ me. You sent your _sister_ to deflect me," he snarled.

Chloe glanced back at Lana, frowning. She hadn't even been living with them yet… "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a sister."

"Not you. Ross."

"But Kathy doesn't even live--"

Pete shook his head. "He doesn't mean Kathy. He's talking about Isis. Aren't you Strauss."

"All I wanted was a dance and the two of you go brainwashing Chloe against me."

"Brainwashing!" Chloe sputtered, trying to push her way around Pete.

"Then she sics her pet-billionaire on me--"

"So you did this to Isis?" Pete demanded, eyes narrowed. "Out of some kind of twisted revenge?"

"Hell yeah! And when I'm done with _Ms._ Ross, you're next Sull--" He never finished his sentence.

Pete punched Dylan once in the gut, then again across his left cheek when Dylan doubled over. Dylan's knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed face forward with a meaty thud.

There was a loud clattering as Lana dropped something behind them. "Pete!" Chloe pulled him back from Dylan's body. "Pete what did you just do?" Lana was kneeling over Dylan. "Is he okay?"

"Who cares if he's okay?" Pete snarled.

"It looks like you knocked him out." Lana flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked up at them. "Nothing's broken if that's what you mean, but he's gonna have a pretty awesome black and blue." Then she noticed the way Pete was shaking his right hand. "Let me get you some ice," she said, as she rose from the floor and rushed toward the kitchen.

"Pete," Chloe began, "you're lucky you didn't do more than knock him out." She pulled him toward the far end of the bar and made him sit. "You could get in major trouble."

"Chloe, didn't you _hear_ him? He admitted to putting Ice in the coma and he threatened to do something to you next."

Lana came out with a makeshift ice-pack of industrial freezer in the cleanest dishrag she could find. "Chloe's right. Fine Dylan admitted to doing something, but we don't have any proof."

"Anyone who listens to him for five minutes will know he's crazy." Pete's breath hissed between his teeth as Lana dropped the ice pack across his hand.

"If people think he's crazy then they're way less likely to believe he was even capable of doing something to Isis."

"Lana took the words out of my mouth, Pete. Which, hey," Chloe said, turning, "that's pretty freaky."

Shrugging, Lana said, "You're starting to rub off on me."

Pete rolled his eyes. "If you two are done with your female bonding--"

"You know you're a real jerk when you get upset, Pete," Chloe griped.

"Look, I'm sorry if I'm a little testy, but Isis is _dying_ while we pay each other compliments!"

Silence.

"_Like_ I was saying…I think Dylan's a meteor mutant."

"Then we'll never be able to prove anything," Chloe said.

"At this point my only concern is saving Isis."

Frowning, Lana said, "I guess we'll just have to wait for him to wake up.

§§§

Clark was kneeling over Isis' unconscious body when Dylan came screaming back. Scrambling to his feet, Clark stood in front of Isis.

"What am I _doing_ here?"

"Thought you said you were a god, Dylan. Don't _you_ know."

"Don't start with me, Kent. This isn't about you, its about her and Chloe and Pete." He clenched his jaw tightly. "I'll deal with you later," he said, screwing his eyes shut.

Nothing happened.

Clark watched as confusion, then anger, passed over Dylan's face. He concentrated again. Still nothing. Dylan's face grew red with frustration.

Clark didn't know what had changed, but he was pretty sure they had changed in his favor.

§§§

"I hate to admit it," Pete said as he nudged Dylan's still unconscious body with his toe, "but I think you're right, Lana. He's not waking up. He looked at her and Chloe, both looking anxious by the bar. "What time do you open on Saturdays?"

"Nine-thirty."

"Think an ambulance can get him out of here in under a half-an-hour?"

§§§

"Something wrong, Dylan?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Kent."

Clark slowly got off his knees, taking a stance in front of Isis' body. "You can't do it anymore, can you? Somehow you lost whatever…whatever _power_ you had," he all but accused. "What happened, Dylan, someone stole your godhood?"

Instead of the angry tirade Clark was expecting and bracing for, Dylan's body language screamed confusion. "I don't get it. I was in control. I was finally in complete control. _She_ was the player in _my_ reality. And then…and then…"

"And then you weren't."

Angered, Dylan flung out his right arm as if to strike at Clark from across the distance.

Clark didn't even flinch. "I think you're broken."

"I may not be able to manipulate the dreamscape anymore but I'm still an independent player." Then Dylan was gone.

"What--! I thought--"

"Behind you, Clark.: Dylan was standing at Isis' head. Looking down at her he said, "The only time I couldn't see through her eyes was when she was asleep, so I came here. It was fun robbing her of her sleep, making her wander through the billionaire's house in the middle of the night. Sometimes I'd plant a suggestion of where I'd want to go." Dylan smiled wistfully. "Ah, well, time to kill her!"

§§§

The emergency room doctor plucked the stethoscope from her ears. Turning a stern eye to Pete she said, "You'll be happy to know your little love-tap didn't put your friend under."

"He's not my friend," Pete replied through clenched teeth.

Ignoring the comment, she went on: "I'm going to have an orderly take him upstairs. We have two other cases just like this."

"Yeah, my cousin and my best friend."

The doctor quirked a curious brow, then began writing instructions on Dylan's chart. "You wouldn't have this guy's personal information, would you? You know, to contact his parents?"

Pete studied Dylan's slack face. The only movement was his eyes back and forth under their lids. Isis was barely doing even that now. Pete shook his head. "I know where he lives, but that's about it."

§§§

Dylan's fingers were merging. Changing color. As Clark watched, his hands became two knives.

"No! Isis!"

Dylan looked up.

But Clark had the feeling it had more to do with the ground rippling under their feet than anything he had said. Dylan fell backwards. Wheat, golden and ripe for harvesting, sprang up between them. In moments it was brushing Clark's chest. Isis and Dylan were nowhere to be seen, and the lake and forests were gone.

"This crap won't stop me, Kent!"

Clark switched to X-ray vision and swept the field. Isis was still unconscious, hidden by the wheat, while Dylan had been thrown several feet by the shifting earth. But Clark could already see that he was struggling to rise. Hoping that this wasn't going to backfire on him, Clark sped to Isis' side. He picked her up in his arms and sped her to a tree halfway across the field, then rushed back to Dylan -- still struggling to rise with the added weight and immobility of his hands-cum-blades.

Clark reached down and grabbed Dylan's shirt collar. "Trying to do this?"

An angry roar ripping from his mouth, Dylan punched his blade-hands into Clark's chest. The blows bounced off harmlessly.

"You might as well give it up, Dylan. You've lost."

Dylan swiped at Clark's face. He jerked back reflexively, loosening his grip. Dylan dropped to the ground. "May have lost the battle, Kent, but Isis is still mine," he said with a knowing grin. "And you know what? Chloe Sullivan's next."

"Chloe?"

"Yeah. Didn't you know? Chloe's been my, uh, substitute when _Miss Ross_ has been unavailable. But I think I'd like to have her full time."

"No!"

"Oh yeah, Kent. And you can't do anything to stop me. I guess my next logical victim would be Pete. They were in this together--"

Clark shrugged.

Dylan slashed at him with hands-turned-scythes. Clark didn't hesitate. Catching both scythes in one hand, Clark yanked Dylan close enough to growl an "I don't think so." The air was suddenly filled with the singing screech of metal being forced out of shape. And with Dylan's screams. "What are you doing? What are you doing! Those are my hands!"

"Not anymore." Clark drew back and punched Dylan squarely in the face. He'd never used the full extent of his strength and found both the crunch of Dylan's nose under his fist and the way he traveled nearly the complete distance to where Clark had left Isis very satisfying.

§§§

The nurse in charge rushed toward the alarm. A nurse was pressing bandages to the patient's face. "What's going on here?"

"I'm checking his pressure when suddenly his nose becomes a faucet."

§§§

Feeling more than a little righteous indignation, Clark strode across the fields following the path of crushed wheat. Dylan was attempting to both rise and stop his bleeding nose when Clark knelt on one knee beside him. "You aren't giving anyone any bad dreams anymore."

"Real arti--" Dylan's mouth was a soundless O of surprise as he felt his life energy being pulled from him. He looked down. The gleaming metal that had been his lower arms now swirled with the tans and pinks of flesh. Clark's flesh.

"You don't wanna do this Kent."

Clark smiled sunnily at him. "Sure I do." He shrugged, attention returning to what he was doing. "I mean, I figure I'm only taking back what you stole from Isis. It's not like I'm doing…_this_."

Suddenly Dylan screamed. Every vein, every pore was on fire as Clark ripped the life energy from him. It stopped just as quickly, but the damage was done. Every breath hurt. Dylan was in too much pain to move.

"Gee, did that hurt? That's what you've been doing to Isis, isn't it?" But Clark slowed the drain further. Hadn't he been the one telling Pete not to go flying off the handle? He could just see his father's disapproving frown hovering over his head. Of course in this crazy place Jonathan Kent probably _was_ floating above them.

_Clark didn't your mother and I try to teach you better than this?_

"Dad, I'm sorry, I--"

_We failed. We thought we had done better by you,_ said his father, quickly going from being disappointed to regretful. _We're just so disappointed Clark…_

Clark felt himself weakening in the face of his father's feelings. "No, Dad--"

_Why did we ever adopt you in the first place?_

"Dad, please don't--"

Jonathan laughed. _We should have gotten a little girl like Martha wanted. But, no, I--_

Something about what his father had said didn't sit right with Clark. It was hard to focus, however, with the nausea clouding his mind. "Mom wanted to adopt a girl?"

_But I insisted on a son. And look what we got instead, a--_

"She wanted a _girl_ from the _adoption_ agency?"

Jon's face was becoming red with anger. _Obviously you don't listen well, either._

Clark shook his head slowly. "My parents didn't get me from an adoption agency."

"What? I thought--"

Clark looked down at Dylan and noticed, for the first time, the gleaming silver creeping up his arm.

"Doesn't matter, I've already won!"

"I don't think so," Clark growled. He _pulled_. The silver receding from his arm burned as it raced down his skin. He felt blood follow in its wake, before the wounds could heal themselves. Beside him, Dylan screamed. His back arched sharply, but Clark held on.

Soon even Dylan's screams died. A soft staccato began to fill the air. His concentration focused solely on Dylan, it took Clark a moment to realize it was the sound of his heartbeat -- and in that instant Clark knew that Dylan's life was his.

Clark detached himself from Dylan, falling backward in his haste. He wasn't sure if it was fear or empowerment that was making his heart race. Brushing back his bangs, Clark squinted up at the sun. Though high it seemed dim. Clark realized he could look up at it full-on without searing his corneas. He looked around. The wheat surrounding him was no longer thick and lush, but rather sickly and sparse. The soil was thin. Rocky.

"Oh crap."

Scrambling to his feet, Clark spared Dylan a last look. He was pale and his skin was drawn at the lips, but Clark could see the shallow stirrings of his chest and hear his heartbeat., faint but steady. Clark turned toward the tree he had lain Isis under. He could see her clearly through the thinning wheat, still unconscious. The tree above her was shedding its leaves like rain although no wind stirred them. Cracks began to appear in the bark -- at first small fissures, but soon Clark could hear the entire tree splitting through its center. Sap immediately began to well up, only to quickly harden a then split again. The tree, like everything else in this nightmare-scape was dying.

"Crap, crap, _crap_!"

Clark sped to Isis. He picked her up and brought her near Dylan. Although he wanted nothing else to do with Dylan, the location was far enough away that they were unlikely to be hit by anything. "God, I hope this works," he half-prayed. Clark placed both hands over Isis' heart and tried to reverse what he had done to Dylan. He was so full up of energy, of life and potential, that once the thought entered Clark's mind he felt the excess begin running out of him like water overflowing a too-full cup. Even that feeling was exhilarating, not draining as it had been with Dylan.

If this is what getting high's like, Clark thought, then I completely understand.

As he had with Dylan, Clark could fee that he had Isis' life in his hands -- but it was the power to build, not destroy. The only thing that stopped him from giggling was the sudden flash of lightening in the sky above. Clark looked up. Storm clouds obscured the sun and the smell of wood-smoke was stirring on the breeze. Clark felt himself reaching that narrow line between giving up excess energy and giving of himself. He began to withdraw his hands from Isis' body.

The earth began to shake. A fissure opened and the tree he had hidden Isis under fell into it. Clark finally that noticed all the wheat had died, and all that all they were left with was dark, pebbly soil. Lightening flashed. Clark counted the seconds.

Three seconds later, thunder boomed.

"It's close." He turned his attention to Isis. "C'mon Ice, you gotta wake up. I don't know what's going on but we have to get out of here." He picked her up and tried setting her on her feet. Isis' head lolled on her shoulders like a rag doll as she slumped in Clark's arms, a dead weight.

The ground shook. Lightening flashed. More earth fell away along the line of the original fissure extending into the distance as thunder rolled in. The sky was completely black and the temperature had dropped.

"Isis!"

Clark could hear waves crashing against the new-found cliffs. The heaves opened. Fat heavy drops began to fall, quickly matting Clark's hair to his head.

Isis whimpered softly, slowly moving her head from side to side in an attempt to get out of the rain. Clark's first instinct was to pull her in closer so he could better shield her with his body. Then the proverbial light bulb went off. Holding Isis firmly under her arms, he turned her into the now-steady rain. Her hands instantly came up to protect her face. This time when Clark tried to stand her up she did, albeit shakily.

"Mm…Aunt Sukie, stop playing with the shower water…"

"Ice."

"Hmm?"

_"Isis."_

She put her hands to her eyes and took a gingerly step away from Clark. Blinking she looked up at the sky, turned and looked at him. First "Clark" as if she were orienting herself. Then: "Clark, where's Dylan?"

Wordlessly he pointed to Dylan's body lying three feet to her left. A frown further marred her haggard face. "Good." Lightening flashed overhead. "What's that?"

"What's what."

"That building in the distance. That…that house."

A small smile quirking his lips Clark said, "Might as well find out." He closed the distance between them. "Do you trust me?"

"I'm pretty sure you just saved my life, Clark. If I can't trust you now, who can I trust?"

"Okay," he said, picking her up in his arms. "Don't…don't freak out."

Isis wrapped her arms around his neck. "Why would--"

Clark sped them to the house.

"--I freak out. Wow." Isis eyed the distance they had crossed. "Go Super-Dream Clark."

He blushed. Turning away he spotted a plaque set into a stone in the hard ground. " 'The House of Sleep,'" he read.

"House is a serious understatement in this case. I think they should have gone with 'Manor of Sleep,'" Isis said, craning her neck up and up. "You've been here before?"

Clark shook his head.

"Neither have I. But one of our minds has to be generating this. If its not yours and its not mine--"

"Has to be Dylan's. He's…he's still alive. I guess he's dreaming that he's dreaming."

There was a rumbling, but something about the sound made Clark think it wasn't thunder. "No lightening."

Wiping rain-water from her face, Isis turned to Clark. "What about light--"

"Isis! Look out!" Clark threw his body over Isis' as the House of Sleep began to fall around them.

§§§

Sunday, Feb. 16

Clark's eyes felt leaden as he tried to open them. He tried working his mouth next. His jaw felt stiff.

"Honey, don't try to talk."

Clark quickly found that when he stopped working so hard, his eyelids kind of drifted open on their own like the dolls he and Pete used to steal from Pete's sister's room.

_Isis_.

"Jon, bring me the cup of water with the straw in it."

"Mmmom." It came out thick and slurred. Somewhere in the back of his mind Clark wondered if this was what he would sound like if he ever got a soar throat. "Is…"

"Sh, honey." The bed dipped under Martha Kent's weight. "Drink some water."

"You've been out for two days, son." Clark turned toward the sound of his father's voice, only to shy away from the strongest light source in the room. Jonathan immediately closed the blinds of the observation window. "Sorry, son. Better?"

Clark nodded slowly. He opened his mouth to ask about Isis, but Martha made him drink instead.

"It's okay, Clark. You don't have to worry. Isis is better," Jon told him. As their son's body visibly relaxed a look passed between Jon and Martha. Though it was true that Isis' vitals were back to normal, but she had yet to regain consciousness.

§§§

Sheriff McKinley gave Pete cop-eyes as she said, "You better count your blessings Mrs. Strauss didn't press charges, young man."

"It wasn't his fault," both Mrs. Strauss and Pete's mother said. Mrs. Strauss' eyes were dark -- from either worry or lack of sleep.

Probably both, Pete thought. Despite the scowl threatening to erupt on his face, he _was_ grateful to Dylan's mother.

"The doctor said it wasn't his fault," she repeated in her skittish voice.

Sheriff McKinley flipped open her notepad, although they had all been present when Doctor Norma had confirmed the pronouncement of the emergency room nurse: "What this young man did certainly hasn't helped matters, but there's no evidence that either the force of the blow or its location caused Mr. Strauss' apparent coma. No offense, but the worse it should have done was minor bleeding from the nose." Pete hadn't been offended.

Flipping the notepad closed, Sheriff McKinley nodded. "That's what the lady said all right. But just know that I'm keeping my eye on you. Somehow you and that Kent boy seem to manage to get into a lot of trouble for such a small town."

Pete felt his mother's hand tighten on his shoulder. "Is your business with my son completed Sheriff?"

"Yes, ma'am, it is." She tipped her hat to the formidable woman, "Judge Ross," and to Dylan's mother, "Mrs. Strauss," before turning on her heel and leaving.

Pete turned to face his mother, an eager fire glittering in his eyes. One look from his mother doused it. "Get your things, we're going home Peter."

"Yes, ma'am." Pete lived in dread of a lonely "r" being stuck on the end of his name. No good ever came of it.

Mrs. Strauss caught his arm just as he was turning to leave. "May I?"

"I'll meet you in the car, Peter."

He nodded, dreading whatever Dylan's mother had to say to him. No matter what the Doc said, Pete knew it was his fault Dylan was in a coma, if only because it had been his fondest wish.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Mrs. Strauss?"

"Thank you."

§§§

The muscles of her hand spasmed. Years later, sitting alone in a glass and steel cage of his own design, this night would come back to Lex as he reads selected articles forwarded to his computer. Fingers hovering over the down-arrow, he will have a sense memory so powerful that for a moment he will feel the weight f her hand draped over the back of his, the heat of it through his skin, and smell the unique scent of hospital disinfectant and machinery. And he will feel that spasm of her once lifeless hand…the texture of her fingers as they jerk gracelessly against his skin. In that glass and steel cage, flooded with morning light, a decade removed from that long lonely night, Lex will realize that it was in that moment he knew Isis was coming out of her long sleep.

Isis turned her head restlessly. Her eyelids fluttered but didn't quite open. Silently Lex rose, crossed the room and poured cool water into a hospital cup. He brought it back to the bed, then slowly began raising the bed to an upright position. When she appeared to be both more conscious and comfortable, Lex brought the straw he'd dropped into the cup to her lips. Isis drank greedily.

Lex pulled the straw away. "You have to slow down or you'll make yourself sick."

"I--" Isis' voice was croak. "I know that."

"You sound like hell," Lex said, smirking.

Isis tried swatting him with her hand, but it was too heavy and he was too far. Her eyes drifted closed.

Lex felt his heart trip in his chest until he heard the growled, "Turd," from her lips. He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles above the IV. "Your turd."

Isis opened her eyes groggily and caught his gaze in hers. She snorted. Lex grinned. He pulled the uncomfortable orange hospital chair closer to the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Like the…tire marks of…of a Mac are permanently tattooed to my…"

"Not so fast, Isis.  
"…to my skin."

It was obvious the exchange was tiring for her and Lex was beginning to feel like a heel for not calling in the doctor immediately. He stood, ready to rectify that oversight.

"Where're you going?"

He'd had to be absolutely silent to hear her before, and now was no exception. "Hmm?"

"Where are you going," she said more slowly although she was still difficult to understand with the new deeper timbre of her voice.

"To get the doctor."

She nodded and relaxed into the bed. She was still watching him when he opened the door, flooding the room with light from the hall. Lex quickly apologized as Isis shut her eyes, hissing in pain. As he slipped into the hall he chalked her seemingly green eyes to lack of sleep.

By that morning it was a confirmed fact and not just a figment of Lex's imagination. Doctor Norma had someone from Ophtomology brought to check Isis' eyes. He flicked off his pen light and stood. "Well there isn't much I can tell you without better diagnostic tools," he said waiving the light, "but her eyes -- your eyes, young lady -- seem to be fine. I'd like to have them dilated so I can see what all is going on back there, but we don't have to do that right now. Now as for the green…" He scratched his head full of white hair. "From what Doctor Norma's told me I can only guess its another side-effect of the traces of meteor-rock still in her system. I'd suggest going to a specialist in Metropolis if you want to find out if this is permanent or not, although my feeling is it's not."

"Thank you, Dr. Edsel," Dr. Norma said, smiling genially at colleague. "Mr. Luthor, can I talk to you outside?"

"Lex nodded and followed them out. When he glanced quickly back into the room, Isis was staring at herself with the hand-mirror Doc Norma had brought her.

They're not really real, was Isis' first thought. Every time she closed her eyes she knew that when she opened them they'd be their deep chocolate brown again. But they weren't. They might never be brown again. Staring at her face in the mirror, Isis wasn't sure she recognized the woman looking back at her. Her face was more triangular than heart-shaped with its dark hallows and too-defined cheekbones; her hair where it curled in tiny tangles at the base of each braid was dull and dirty; and her eyes…her eyes seemed to float above her face too white, too wide and too wise to be her own. Their vivid green seemed to mock her -- a semi-permanent reminder of what Dylan had done.

Lex came back into the room, quietly closing the door behind himself. "I made an appointment with Dr. Edsel for--"

"I want to go home, Lex, " Isis' brow creased as Lex stiffened as he crossed the room.

He stopped some distance away from the bed, feet braced as if preparing for some blow. "I'll have the helicopter take you back."

Giving him a look that said she clearly though he was losing it, she said, "Don't you think a 'chopper from here to the mansion is a bit…" She paused, hand coming up to cover her eyes. "It's a little much, Lex."

She couldn't see the way his shoulders relaxed as he came toward the bed. He took her hand from over her eyes and kissed her palm. "I'll have Enrique come pick you up after your appointment tomorrow," he said, straightening.

Isis held his hand with surprising strength. "Not tomorrow. Now."

"Isis you need--"

"I need to get out of this bed."

Gently Lex pried her fingers from his hand. "You're still not well. You heard Dr. Norma, you still need to be under observation."

"I won't stay."

"Isis, you can hardly sit up. How do you expect to make it to the Mansion?"

"On my own, apparently," she growled, ignoring Lex's reasonable tone.

"Ice…"

But she was already struggling to rise, pushing herself higher on the already raised bed. Lex stepped backward. She pushed the sheets away from her body and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Palms flat on the bed, she paused as she took a trembling breath.

"Isis, let me--"

"I'll do this on my own, Lex.

"_I'll do this on my own if I have to, Lionel. I refuse to stay in this bed one moment longer." Lillian Luthor pushes herself off the bed holding onto the guardrail with all her strength; and Lionel Luthor catching his wife -- "Never alone, Lillian" -- despite her harsh words, never seeing their son watching from the darkened door._

Isis pushed herself off the bed.

And Lex caught her before she could fall. "But you don't have to," he said into her hair as she clung to his neck. "Let's get some clothes on you."

"Want to leave now."

"It's freezing out there, Isis, and you're as good as naked." She didn't protest when he arranged her in what had become his favorite of the uncomfortable orange hospital chairs and helped her pull on the sweater and jeans she'd worn to the hospital almost a week ago. "Don't worry," he said with a lecherous gleam in his eyes, "I promise to peal these off you the first chance I get."

Isis giggled and something in Lex's chest tightened. He handed her long shearling coat, with its split up the back, to her. "Hold this." Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the room.

"What happened to Clark?" she murmured in his ear.

"Declared fit to go home yesterday afternoon."

"What day is it?"

"Monday, February 17th, some time around two in the afternoon if that clock's right."

She didn't speak for a moment, then voice breaking said, "I've been out for six days?"

"Yes, Isis."

Her head went back into the crook of his neck.

They were coming to the nurses' station. Lex braced himself for the inevit--

"What do you think you're doing?"

Lex turned. It was Dr. Norma standing behind them, left hand indignantly on her hip. "Miss Ross is a very sick woman."

"She wants to go."

"She needs to stay."

Isis picked her head up. "Don't blame Lex. I threatened to leave on my own."

"You don't have to protect your boyfriend, Miss Ross."

Shaking her head, Isis rejoined, "Can't you see? He's the one protecting _me_. I would have crawled out this hospital if I had to."

"Really?" Dr. Norma's eyebrows arched in question.

Lex felt his muscles tighten. Something he wasn't going to like was about to happen.

"Come over here and sign yourself out."

Lex started forward.

"No. On her own."

Isis had her hand on Lex's chest before he could voice his protest. "It's okay. She has a point.

"It seems like a rather sadistic one to me," he said, glaring coldly at Dr. Norma.

"I'll be all right. Put me down." Which he did reluctantly, taking the heavy shearling from her arms. She clutched his arm only for a moment before slowly crossing the three feet separating her from the nurses' desk. Her movements were a far remove from usual graceful stride -- the were the painfully slow steps of a child holding a glass full of water, or a man relearning to walk after a long illness. It took every bit of the calculating patience his father had hammered into him for Lex to remain rooted where he was.

The nurse at the desk had the forms waiting for her when Isis finally reached the counter. "Where do I sign?" she asked steadily, palms flat on the counter, arms at rest.

"Print then sign right here…and the date."

"Thank you." Isis turned slowly toward Dr. Norma. "And thank you for caring."

But Dr. Norma gave no quarter, a frown deepening the lines of her face. "I expect to see you often, young woman."

Isis nodded slowly. "L-Lex?"

He swooped her up into his arms before she collapsed, the coat over his right shoulder. Once in the car he draped it over her before speeding off toward the Mansion. Isis looked out the window the whole way.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked suddenly.

Isis was silent so long that he was positive that she had dozed off. Thumbs itching, Lex flipped on the CD-player with his right hand via the steering wheel of the tiny Aston Martin and turned down the volume with the other. He reached over to touch Isis' cheek and check her temperature--

"You were calling my name."

--but stopped midway.

"And then…" she hesitated. "Then blackness. What happened?"

"I was going to throw a snowball at you. I _did_ throw a snowball at you, but missed. Then you collapsed." They pulled into the garage. As the doors closed behind them Lex got out, went around the car and collected Isis. As soon as she was out, she was up in his arms.

_"Lex."_

"Shh."

So she did, tucking her face into his neck as he carried her upstairs. She heard her name murmured and called a few times as he went through the kitchen, using the servants' stair to get them upstairs.

"Would you like a bath?"

"Please? I'm so cold."

Lex glanced down at her face -- Isis' skin was thin, purplish blue veins showing underneath, while her fingers had his overcoat in a death grip. Even the roots of her hair, starting to grow out from the box braids, were dull and dirty. Lex tried to set her down in an armchair in front of the fireplace but she wouldn't go. "Isis, I can't start the water running with the power of my mind," he said as he uncurled her fingers from his lapels.

"Sorry," she apologized, smiling. "I know you're busy Lex. You don't have to stay," she said as he set her down to strip off his car coat.

"I've been working from home all week." Before she could reply Lex was in the bathroom starting the water. Not one for baths himself he had few amenities in that regard, but if he remembered right there was…

On a shelf just above the sunken whirlpool bath, which was filling quickly, he found scented bath salts. The sniff he took of the first one was too close, and he sneezed violently.

"Lex?"

"I'm okay," he called back. Then to himself, "But Citrus Medley is out." Remembering his lab training, Lex opened the second glass container and waved his free hand over the top, gently bringing the scent to his nose instead of the other way around. Satisfied, he poured a good quantity into the water, turning it a Mediterranean blue. he tested it quickly -- near scalding. Perfect.

"Lex, what happened?" Isis asked as he came back for her.

"Stuck my nose where I shouldn't have," he answered looking up at her from where he knelt at her feet.

Smiling slyly, Isis said, "I think I like you like this."

Lex snorted softly, pulling off her boots. "Don't antagonize the guy running your bathwater," he said as he proceeded to undress her.

"You know you do this so well, Lex. Ever play with dolls when you were younger?" Isis asked as a wave of self-consciousness threatened.

"Only the kind that could talk back."

"_Mama_," Isis said, mimicking a cupie doll.

"Mmm, more like 'Harder, Lex,'" he deadpanned as he swung her into his arms.

"I deserved that," she said into his neck as she clutched him.

Lex sighed. "No you didn't. Hold on, I'm going to lower you into the tub."

"I've seen your tub," Isis said as she held on dearly. "That's not a tub, it's a kiddie-pool."

"Ha ha." Down on one knee, Lex proceeded to lower Isis, who hissed as she sank into the hot water. When he moved to stand she asked where he was going. "I'm going to let you relax."

"No, Lex, stay."

"Isis you need--"

"I need you _here_." With no other warning she pulled him into the hot water.

"_Isis!"_ Water sloshed over the wall onto the marble tile. Lex's skin was immediately flushed, his clothes soaked through when he rose from the water. "These shoes are leather and now they're ruined," he said through gritted teeth.

Isis rose to full height, shedding water. "You have a willing and naked woman all to yourself in a deliciously hot bath all to yourself and all you can think about is how I've ruined your fine Italian shoes?" Isis sank back into the water, her braids floating around her neck, new-green eyes flashing.

Lex watched with passive inevitability as she made her way toward him. Soon he was watching as her body brushed full length against his as she came out of the water again, this time with the hem of his soaked sweater in her hands. Dutifully he raised his arms over his head as she pushed and tugged the now-heavy cloth from his body, revealing his long, pale torso. He caught her right hand with his left as she made to throw the sweater onto the floor. It landed half in and half out the water with a heavy thwack. Using her raised arm as leverage, Lex bent down and took Isis' mouth with his own. With his free hand he pulled Isis closer and felt her arm come up behind him to clutch his shoulder. Simultaneously they brought down their joined raised arms, Lex bringing his now free left hand to the back of Isis' head as he took complete control of the kiss, angling her head to deepen it as their tongues twined and danced. Vaguely he felt Isis' right hand snake its way up his naked back to hold him to her.

Foreheads pressed together they broke for air. Isis' cat-green eyes flashed dark with desire into Lex's. The sound of their breathing occupied the spaces between the gurgle of water swirling around their upper thighs. Lex felt Isis' hands slide down his back, along his sides, around his narrow hips to his belt. Bodies still flush against the other it took her two tries to get it undone. And about that long for Lex to bring his hands down over hers, stopping her.

"What's wrong," she breathed.

"It's too soon, Ice."

"Lex, I--"

"No, Ice, it's too soon." He cupped her face in one hand, smoothing her eyebrow with his thumb. "Trust me." He felt her hands go slack at his belt. He watched the energy drain from her green eyes and from her body until it was his arms holding her up and not any part of her will.

Gently he lowered her back into the water, directing her toward the seats built into the wall, then he stood and removed his shoes and trouser socks.

"Not the pants, Lex? Wont you chafe?"

"I could do with some chafing," he said nonchalantly, "but I think it's a necessary precaution."

"I could chafe you," Isis said, reaching for him.

Lex quickly slipped backward out of reach. "Play nice, Isis."

She pouted prettily. And when she continued to tease him as he gave her her bath, until she was lulled into semi-somnolence, he knew that eventually everything would be all right.

By the time he had her dry and wrapped in one of his terry-cloth robe, she was half asleep. Lex had already shed what was left of his waterlogged clothes in the bathroom. A towel wrapped around his hips, he searched through his armoire, quickly pulling out and putting on a new wardrobe. In his searching he came across a faded grey gym-shirt that was, of course, not only clean but pressed. He dressed Isis in it.

Her eyes fluttered as he moved the shirt over her head. "Lex?"

"Sleep, Isis." She did, looking small and lonely in his large, dark bed. So Lex picked her up, feeling again the fragility of her bones, and took her down the hall to her room. It was beginning to smell musty from disuse, but he dared not open a window. Instead he set her down gently on the bed and pulled the comforter up and around her.

Outside her door he paused and took a deep breath. The muscles of his arms trembled, but he didn't think it had anything to do with all the carrying of Isis he had done.

Lex pushed off the door and went downstairs.

§§§

A/N: this chapter has probably taken longer than any chapter i've ever written. then again this chapter is probably longer than all the previous ones. thank you to all my wonderful, devoted fans who have waited patiently (and not-so patiently) for this to come out. thank you for doing the difficult task of _not_ giving me feedback. i know it was hard -- well hard for me at least, lol -- but please feel free to reply all you want now. trust me, it's been your feedback that's given me the strength to do this when i thought the smallville gang had deserted me. you hadn't. thank you. vashti 


	23. Exit, Stage Anywhere But Here

Exit, Stage Anywhere But Here

§§§

Saturday, March 15th

Matthews handed Isis her car coat. "Are you sure you'll be all right, Miss Ross?"

"Don't you go back to calling me by my proper name. Try me again when I'm older and more mature," she grumped good naturedly.

"And when does Miss think that will be?"

Isis turned and gave the butler a quick hug. "Oh, probably when I'm about 90 or something. And Ill be fine, Matthews. I mean, yeah, I'm finally getting my eyes checked by that specialist in Metropolis, but I get to go shopping before the appointment and if that isn't a bonus I don't know what is," she said as he held open the door. "Then I get to have a very dark, very slow dinner with my father who's in town, freak him out with my new eyes -- which by then should be all better from the dilation -- and then I get to come home."

Walking backward a few paces, she asked him, "What could be better?"

Matthews opened her car door and held it for Isis as she climbed in. "Be careful, Miss."

Isis scoffed. "As if anything interesting ever happens to _me_."

§§§

"Chloe, for the last time I am not into Pete!"

Clark rounded the corner into _The Torch_ offices. "Who's into Pete?"

"Lana," Chloe said, pointing to the aggravated brunette sitting by the storyboard desk.

Clark felt his heart twist. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

"_No_. Chloe is having delusions of being a matchmaker."

Chloe turned in her chair. "Lana, you all but asked my permission to date him."

"Did not!"

"Yeah, yah you did."

"No I did not!"

"Excuse me, what about that whole 'How do you feel about Pete,' thing a couple of weeks ago?"

"Chloe, it was just a question! I wasn't professing my undying love!"

"Then what _were_ you getting at Lana?"

"Not that!"

Face burning with awkward embarrassment, Clark tried to excuse himself but couldn't be heard over the girls' near-shouting match. Backing up slowly, Clark said, "I think I'll go now," and slipped out of _The Torch_.

Outside he leaned against the cool wall and let out a long low breath. His head bumped against the yellow brick but it didn't hurt. "Never hurts… Too bad alien emotions aren't as impervious." Sighing, Clark pushed off the wall and left the school building.

§§§

The phone on his desk bleeped three times in quick succession before Mrs. Cauldhaumme came over the intercom. "Your father is holding on One for you. Would you like to be in a meeting, sir?"

Lex repressed a sigh. "No, it's all right, Mrs. Cauldhaumme. I'll take the call."

"Yes, sir."

"Mrs. Cauldhaumme—"

"Yes, Mr. Luthor."

"Please accept Miss Yomataro's invitation to tour Kumitsu Incorporated's labs in Tokyo on my behalf."

"The tour is scheduled for Monday morning, Japan time, sir. You'll have to take a Sunday flight."

"I am aware of that, Mrs. Cauldhaumme."

"Just a reminder, sir. And shall I also book a ticket for Miss Ross?"

"Isis has to be at the school on Monday. She won't be coming."

"Understood, sir." Lex got the impression that Mrs. Cauldhaumme's understanding went deeper than the face value of his words as she announced his father.

She clicked off. Lionel Luthor clicked on: "Lex!"

"Dad…you sound pleased to hear from me," he said, sitting back.

"You're my only child, why shouldn't I be happy to hear from you?"

And while his father's tone wasn't exactly false, Lex let the comment slide anyway. "What can I do for you, Dad?"

"I wanted to know when I could come over…take a tour of _LexCorp_."

Lex shifted in his seat. "You've seen the factory before. The only thing that's changed is the letter head."

"So I've noticed," his father said with noticeably less cheer. "Still its been quite some time since I've last seen you. When was it, Christmas? That's almost three months."

"We've gone longer," Lex reminded him.

"Son, I thought we were trying to put that ugly time behind us."

"If you say so Dad."

"And with that spirit, how about dinner Sunday night? You can even invite your little girlfriend."

In the privacy of his office, Lex was free to scowl. But he narrowed his eyes and thinned his lips instead. "Although she is staying at the house, Miss Ross is just a friend."

"That's not what the daily rags seem to believe."

"Which is exactly what they are, rags." Leaning back once more, Lex asked, "Since when do you believe everything you read, Dad? I think you were the one that said, 'Only ten percent of anything in print and in the media is true. The rest is lies and speculation.'"

"I'm touched that you remember my words so precisely, Lex."

"You seem to have forgotten it yourself."

Lionel sighed on the other side of the line. "Despite what you may believe, I didn't call to argue with you, Lex …So I'll see you Sunday night?"

"Can't Dad. I'll be in the air, on the way to visit investors in Tokyo."

"Saturday then."

"I'll be busy preparing for the meeting. You know how it is Dad."

"Indeed. Indeed I do. _So_…I suppose we'll have to reschedule."

"Looks that way."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out. Until next time, Lex."

"Sure Dad."

Lex hung up and sighed.

§§§

Pete watched Clark sink another impossible shot through the rim of the basketball hoop on the side of the Kents' barn. "So its official?" Pete asked.

"Looks that way." Clark bounced the ball to Pete.

"That sucks, man. I'm sorry."

Clark shrugged. "I guess I kinda always knew its just that…"

"The delivery," Pete supplied when Clark faltered.

"Yeah. And the finality of it." He watched Pete take another shot. "It's like you said, about it being official. Before there was hope. Now there's only—"

"Your stomped on heart."

"Pretty much."

"Guess being super doesn't make your emotions super too, huh?"

Clark caught Pete's bounce-pass of the basketball. "That's pretty much the conclusion I came to."

§§§

"How are your eyes, sweetheart?" Malcolm Ross asked his daughter once the host had shown them to their dark corner of the low-lit restaurant.

Isis smiled. Here eyes had already been dilated and examined by the specialist at Metropolis General when her father had come. The doctor had put the wraparound sunglasses on her himself before allowing her to leave his darkened office. Isis touched the glasses tentatively. They were doing more than protecting her sensitive eyes.

"A little better, Daddy."

"Ready to take them off?"

She shook her head gently. "Not yet."

§§§

Chloe knocked on Lana's open door. "Can I come in."

"Sure." Lana kept reading her novel.

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about earlier."

Lana didn't respond.

"I know I stuck my foot in it—"

"Which you do a lot."

"Hey I—"

I know you're just trying to be a friend," Lana said, sitting up, "but sometimes you go diving straight from friendly concern to a reporter doggedly following a lead."

"But that's what I am Lana!" Chloe said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Which is all well and good when your on a _story_, but not so much when you're supposed to be helping out a friend. Aren't those instincts of your supposed to let you know when to back off?"

Chloe made a face as she admitted that that particular instinct wasn't always at its best.

"No time like the present to work on it."

"So you're not still mad at me."

"Nah. We're fine. Now get out of here," Lana said, making shooing motions. "Antonio was just about to awake Sierra's burgeoning passion."

"You read that?"

"Chloe you lent it to me."

"Oh. Right."

§§§

"…And would you like to review your travel itinerary, sir?" Mrs. Cauldhaumme asked, closing her notebook computer.

"I trust everything is in order, thank you," Lex said, perfunctorily. In his mind he had already moved on.

"My pleasure, sir." Mrs. Cauldhaumme rose and left the office.

Their waiter set their cappuccino and coffee in front of Isis and her father. I'll bring your desserts right out."

Malcolm Ross thanked him as Isis swirled her sugar encrusted stirrer in her drink. True to his word the waiter was back in moments with Isis' raspberry torte and her father's tiramisu.

"You're going to go into a sugar overdose, sweetheart," Malcolm joked. He began preparing his coffee.

"Daddy."

Malcolm frowned. "The waiter brought me milk and not cream for my coffee." He turned, searching for the young man.

"Daddy." Isis slipped off the wraparound sunglasses.

He was still looking. "Just one second, sweetheart."

_"Daddy."_

"Isis what's…" Their eyes had long adjusted to the low-light gloom of the restaurant. Isis' eyes flashed tsavorite green against the warm cocoa of her skin. "Baby, what happened to your eyes?"

§§§

"Good evening, Miss Isis."

"I'm wearing you down, Michaels."

"How did it go?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "He didn't make a scene."

"Well that's good, Miss."

"Yup. Is Lex in his study?"

"Yes, Miss, but he doesn't wish to be disturbed."

"If he really didn't want to be disturbed he would have divorced himself," she said, smiling. "Goodnight, Michaels."

"Goodnight, Miss Isis."

One warning knock on the study door and Isis slipped inside.

"I said I didn't wish to be disturbed," Lex snapped.

"Good thing I wasn't around to hear that particular ultimatum."

Lex looked up from his work. "Isis."

"One and the same." She glided toward the desk.

"How was the optometrist?"

"Fine. He's convinced the pigmentation is temporary, but no word on how long it will last." She perched on the edge of his desk.

"And dinner with your father?"

"Also fine. At least until dessert."

"Dessert?"

"Yes. That was when I finally took off my sunglasses and showed him these," she said gesturing to green eyes.

Lex turned back to his work. "Didn't take it well."

"He demanded that I go home to Gotham with him."

"Are you?"

"Lex, you don't understand. Dad didn't mean 'Pack your things, I've come to take you home.' He was talking about right then, right there. Do no pass Go. Do not kiss your boyfr—" She stopped herself. "Well…you know."

Lex caught her eye. She thought she could see him pulling away as she watched. "Anyway," she went on, "I told Daddy that he was crazy, that I'm a target anywhere I go, blah blah blah. Needless to say, thought, you're no longer on his Christmas list."

A grunt was all the acknowledgment she got.

"Right. So." Isis slid off the desk. "We're still on for dinner tomorrow, right?"

"I'm going to Tokyo tomorrow."

"Tokyo? You're going on that tour?"

"Yes."

"So I won't see you until…"

"Tuesday."

"Tuesday. Right." She stood beside him, waiting. Waiting. "Goodnight, Lex."

"Night."

Lex kept his eyes focused on his twin monitors. It had helped over the past month when not touching Isis had become an ache he could no longer ignore.

§§§

A/N: i know it's been forever and two days since i've updated. and i'm sorry to say that this is a really short chapter for all that you've waited (but you knew that already). i've been working on the follow-up chapter for a third age but between the posting of the previous chapter and now i've been doing that "grown up" thing that seems like fun when you're a kid. ha! anywho, i am working on the new chappie. i will finish this fic. Smallville will likely be long gone by then, but it _will_ be done. so there. 


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